


Sins of the Father

by SlightlyTwistedSilverware



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daddy Cal, F/M, Kara Actually Went Home to Mum, Not Canon Compliant, Season 3 Was a Hot Mess, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Ward's Not Crazy, fage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlightlyTwistedSilverware/pseuds/SlightlyTwistedSilverware
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FAGE for nathyfaith. AU. (CONTAINS S3 SPOILERS) There is something very wrong with Cal Johnson, and Daisy will not rest until her father is safe at last. Alienated from S.H.I.E.L.D., on the run, and terrified, will Daisy accept help from an unlikely, and perhaps untrustworthy, source? Or will her parents' past sins finally catch up with what remains of their family? Cross posted on fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/gifts).



> FAGE 8:Soul Mates
> 
> Title: Sins of the Father
> 
> Written for: nathyfaith
> 
> Written By: Silverspoon
> 
> Rating: M (for language)
> 
> Summary/Prompt used: Person A travels to visit his/her family after some tragic events and meets Person B.
> 
> If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this exchange visit the facebook group: Fanficaholics Anon: Where Obsession Never Sleeps, or add the C2 to get all the stories direct to your inbox.
> 
> community/FAGE-8-Soul-Mates/93625/ﾧ
> 
> x-x-x
> 
> Author's Note - For the purpose of this gift fic, Ward was telling the truth when he left Kara with S.H.I.E.L.D. to be rehabilitated. She never kidnapped Bobbi, they didn't torture her, Ward never rejoined Hydra, and Coulson didn't kill him. Enjoy!

November 30th, 2015

The Playground, Washington

Being summoned to Coulson's office was nothing new, at least not these days, and yet the young agent found her steps quickening as a kind of urgency she could not explain flooded her body. Thoughts of one specific person filled her up to the brim and, since being roused from her bed by a po-faced Agent Morse, she had already begun preparing herself for the worst; after all, he had been sick lately, and the hospital records she had hacked into had insinuated that it was perhaps the kind of sick from which one might not recover.

She stalked down the corridor as fast as her bare feet would allow, ignoring the curious and somewhat amused glances directed at her by members of the night security team as they went about their business. She took a moment to school her features, smoothing her worried frown away until her face was near expressionless. Then she hammered on Coulson's office door three times in quick succession before inviting herself inside without awaiting a summons.

"This better be good, D.C.," she drawled, plopping down into the leather armchair adjacent to the desk and slinging her legs over the side of the arm, "it's like ass-crack o'clock and some of us still need our beauty sleep."

Carefully, Daisy watched Coulson's lips, eyes almost narrowed to slits as she searched for even the slightest traces of a smile; there were none, and Daisy's heart immediately plummeted. Her distress must have crept into her eyes because Coulson reached across the desk with his still-flesh-and-blood hand in order to squeeze her arm.

"I'm so sorry," he began, soft voice and sympathetic eyes almost more than Daisy could bare. She swung her feet back onto the floor, snatching her arm away from her pseudo-father's grasp as though it was his touch and not his words that had burned her.

"No," she said firmly, almost calmly, "he's fine. Everything is going to be okay. He's strong."

Coulson only shook his head, reached out to Daisy again and then seemed to think better of it. He withdrew his hand and instead fumbled at the desk drawer, searching for something apparently relevant to the ruining of Daisy's life. She sucked in a breath whilst Coulson wasn't quite so focussed on her and reminded herself to slide the mask back into place; she was a commander herself now, and it wouldn't do to exhibit her weakness. After all, the doe eyed little girl living in the back alley van who laughed too loud and hoped too much was just a shadow from the past now. Daisy Johnson was a realist.

Coulson finally retrieved the papers and slid the drawer shut before pushing them across the table to the waiting agent.

"There have been certain... changes... in his condition," Coulson began, imploring Daisy to sit down again with a wave of his robotic hand. She obliged and fidgeted with the hem of her pyjama shorts as she kept her eyes trained on the director.

"Go on," she said, some of her previous desperation reigned in by her desire not to disappoint Coulson.

"By day, he remains much the same; the doctors suspect a type of catatonic schizophrenia. He's uncommunicative, responsive only to pain, and requires round the clock care, so he's being kept under pretty close observation at St. Winifred's. They've managed to rule out a tumour, epilepsy, an infection, or vascular disease," Coulson stated, his eyes roving the page in front of him, although Daisy suspected the information was already committed to his memory.

"Can we skip ahead to the part where you tell me things I haven't already illegally discovered?" Daisy snapped, her limited patience very rapidly fraying.

Coulson nodded, not even bothering to reprimand his agent a little bit for the blunt admittance. He had known that any warnings to Daisy not to go seeking out information regarding Cal Johnson would go unheeded.

"Last night, a prominent neurosurgeon at St. Winifred's was murdered in his office," Coulson explained. "Given the sensitive nature of your father's condition, we already had men stationed at the hospital in the event of an unprecedented emergency."

"Coulson!" exclaimed Daisy, her annoyance escalating to slightly eclipse her concern. Everything about Coulson's speech seemed rehearsed and that idea bothered Daisy to an extent that she could not explain.

"At approximately twenty-three forty-five hours, the security cameras in the corridor outside your father's room appear to show Cal making his way to Dr. Kendall's office. He leaves fifteen minutes later and returns to his own room. At approximately zero one hundred hours, the doctor's body was discovered by a nurse. His neck had been broken in several places," Coulson swallowed audibly, affixing Daisy with a look that she was hard pressed to read, "this morning, Cal is once again unresponsive."

Daisy sat back in her seat, her movements stilted and her confusion scrawled across her suddenly drawn features. Coulson watched her in silence, waiting for some cue from the agent as to how best to comfort her.

"How is that even possible?" she eventually demanded, her words tumbling out on a shaky breath.

"We always knew that undergoing T.A.H.I.T.I. was a risky move," murmured Coulson, "your father carefully evaluated that risk before agreeing to the procedure. Our best guess is that, due to the lingering physiological and psychological effects of the serum Cal subjected his body to for a number of years, the programming has begun to unravel to the detriment of his mental state."

Daisy's mouth gaped and she visibly appeared to struggle for words for a few seconds, before half yelling, "What the hell does that even mean, Coulson? Are you telling me my father is suddenly a cold blooded murderer?"

"It means that there is nothing more we can do for him, Daisy," he replied, head cocked and eyes bleeding sympathy for the young agent trembling in the chair before him. "Our agents at the hospital were able to recover and destroy the security footage, but there is no way I can allow Cal to remain at St. Winifred's given this new development."

Daisy shook her head, struggling against the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

"No, of course not," she mumbled in a rush, raking a hand through her messed curls. Her eyes snapped to Coulson's and she continued, "So we bring him here, have Simmons see what she can do. I mean, I know she's still finding things difficult since... Well, you know, what I mean, but if anyone can find a way through this it's her, right?"

The silence that descended was almost deafening and Daisy had only just begun to realise her mistake when Coulson rose from his desk, crossed the small space between them, and dropped down onto his knees in front of her chair. His hand rested on her knee and he gazed up at her with such a look of imploring sadness that she could no longer maintain her composure. Her nostrils flared and a second later tears began splashing onto the front of her pyjama shirt.

"Daisy, I wish... I wish I could allow that," Coulson whispered earnestly, his grip tightening on her knee as she sobbed soundlessly, "your father... So many lives have already been lost, and now the doctor is on me. We tried... But sometimes, despite our best intentions, people are just beyond our help."

Her own shaking hands swiped at the wetness on her cheeks and Daisy managed to nod her head. A whisper in the back of her mind told her that she should really give voice to her questions about her father's fate, but somehow she knew that her heart already had all the answers. Philip Coulson was not a man without mercy, but even his benevolence must have a limit.

"Will I..." Daisy began, grimacing when her voice emerged as a strangled croak. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Can I see him? Just to say... I have to tell him some things."

Coulson paused, indecision flickering across his face. He climbed to his feet and leaned back against his desk, propping up his body weight with one hand.

"The doctor's all agree it's very unlikely that he's aware of what's going on in his surroundings," he explained, desperately attempting to ignore the wrenching sensation of guilt in the pit of his stomach as Daisy's eyes flashed to his face.

"I know but... I just need..." she stumbled over her words, falling silent when it became apparent to her that all coherent thought had for the moment evaded her. Finally, she licked her lips and peered up into Coulson's face as she whispered, "Please?"

The director's face fell. He watched Daisy carefully for several moments, conflicting feelings as her superior and her friend fighting for dominance. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and then offered the agent a thin, compassionate smile that told her all she needed to know.

"I am so very sorry, Agent Johnson," Coulson stated, emphasising every word as though they brought him physical pain. "For what it's worth... He... I won't let him suffer."

The crushing silence fell once again and Daisy sat unmoving in her chair, unable to protest the injustice and no longer able to even succumb to her tears. She wondered vaguely if she were in shock; certainly, everything suddenly seemed to have become surreal, almost as though she were watching events unfold before her on a television screen, rather than actively participating in them herself.

Coulson was the first to speak, shattering the quiet all too soon for Daisy's liking and causing her to flinch.

"I can have Agent May escort you back to your room if you'd like," he offered, "I'm sure she wouldn't mind staying with you a while."

Something inside Daisy snapped, and she drew her slumped body suddenly upright before rising to her feet. Her movements were once again fluid and controlled, and the dried tear tracks on the apples of her cheeks were the only evidence of her previous sorrow. She shook her head, taking several deep and calming breaths before she turned to address Coulson again.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," she stated, her voice even and controlled, "I'd just like to be left alone for a little while, if that's okay, sir?"

Coulson quickly nodded, drawing himself up to his full height as he reached out to pat Daisy's shoulder.

"Of course, take all the time that you need," he replied, his hand lingering on her upper arm as he reiterated, "we'll all be here for you when you're ready."

Daisy set out towards the closed door, only hesitating when her fingers closed around the handle. She did not bother to turn back to Coulson though, choosing to call her question out over her shoulder instead.

"When?" she asked simply, her fingers tightening around the cold metal as she reminded herself to focus on some other small, insignificant thing in order to keep her emotions in check.

"It's best I don't disclose too much but... within the next eight hours," Coulson said, punctuating his sentence with a hearty sigh. "I wish there was some other way."

"Me too," Daisy interjected, although she seemed far from angry. She pushed through the door without waiting for a further response from Coulson, and she found that her heart rate was surprisingly measured as she strode down the corridor to return to her quarters.

She had barely closed the door to her own bedroom before she had pressed her back against the wood and allowed her body to sink boneless to the floor. She gathered her knees into her chest and carefully balanced her chin on her folded arms, allowing herself those few seconds for panic, sorrow and fear to overwhelm her. The trembling returned and a chill invaded her body that made it feel as though she might never be warm again. The collection of knick knacks on her bedside table began to jitter, signifying that for the first time in a long time, her fragile emotional state was beginning to have an impact on her control over her powers.

Knowing that no amount of breathing techniques could help her in that moment, Daisy instead crawled across the floor towards the space beneath her bed. Her hand disappeared into the darkness and she swept her fingers around blindly for a while, brushing aside stray socks and balled up pieces of note paper that had been hurriedly discarded there. When her hand closed around the canvas strap of her overnight bag, she pulled it out and flung it onto the unmade bed, determined to waste no more time. As she tossed clothes into the bag, a renewed sense of determination began to overcome her where just moments before only sorrow and anxiety had existed.

Although she was indeed much changed since she had first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and Coulson's fledgling team all those months ago, there were just some things that Skye would never have given up on without a fight; and it seemed that Daisy Johnson was in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

November 30th, 2015

St. Winifred's Hospital, Wisconsin

There had been no visitors since his arrival, save for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents posing as orderlies, who would sneak in from time to time to stare at him as he wallowed in his stupor. He could easily identify them as agents from their brisk manner and clean cut appearances, but their presence hardly bothered him. He had bigger issues to concern himself with, he supposed; mainly, the fact that he had spent nigh on two months in a catatonic state, which he had emerged from hours before only long enough to snuff out the life of a middle aged man he had never met.

When he closed his eyes, which was about all he could do lately, Cal thought he could still feel the solid mass of the man's neck beneath his hands. The bones had snapped so easily and, although he had been sickened by the noise, he had simply made his way from the office and calmly returned to his bed without uttering so much as a peep. When he had awoken a few hours later, his body had again refused to submit to his will and he was once more rendered a prisoner in his own subconscious.

The intense fury at his predicament had gradually subsided as the morning had progressed, perhaps as the chatty pre-med. student had spooned porridge into his mouth, and had since given way to a kind of weary resignation that Cal could almost feel in his bones. He knew that his nocturnal actions, no matter how involuntarily, would not have gone unnoticed by S.H.I.E.L.D. He knew it was only a matter of time before they came for him, and yet he couldn't find it within himself to resent them for that. It made sense, after all, to neutralise a threat, and Cal was acutely aware that for reasons unknown to even himself, he had once again become a very definite threat.

It had started out as a perfectly normal Friday evening. He had been catching up on the shows he had DVR'd during the week, whilst working his way through a delightful bottle of Australian red that had been gifted to him by his receptionist that morning. Cal had happily eaten his way through three quarters of a family sized Hawaiian pizza before he had begun to feel most peculiar in a way that could not be attributed merely to alcohol. The very next thing he recalled was the crippling pain and the stream of blood that had poured from his nostrils to pool on the cream carpet beneath the coffee table. Then, the memories had returned, crashing over him with such ferocity that he had cried real tears and called out for an absolution that had never come. Faces and voices mingled with the guilty sting of past deeds done, until Cal had found himself a trembling mess on the lounge floor. By the time he had gathered his wits enough to consider climbing to his feet, he had realised too late that he had lost that particular ability. And so, with newly resurrected thoughts of Daisy plaguing his mind, he had been forced to endure the weekend surrounded by empty pizza boxes as he lay on a bloodstained carpet, until his concerned receptionist had come in search of him on the Monday morning.

Since then, his days had passed in a steady blur of unwelcome bed baths, long and undignified stints on the commode, and clueless doctors shining torches into his eyes. They were mystified by his condition, communicating as much in clear earshot of their patient, who they evidently believed to be incapable of comprehending the English language. Occasionally, a young candy striper would stop by his room to perch on the edge of his bed and read aloud from 'Moby Dick' or something as equally trite, but for the most part Cal was left alone. The one face he longed to see was still fresh in his memory but he had resigned himself weeks ago to the fact that they would never allow Daisy to come. Their goodbyes had already been said and that was a fact that Cal would be forced to come to terms with.

Now, all that was left to do was to make his silent peace with God and await the inevitable.

S.H.I.E.L.D. would come; they always did, and perhaps then his misery would once and for all come to an end.

x-x-x

It was not the first time that she had 'borrowed' a Quinjet without Coulson's knowledge, and yet she had never before done so with the specific intention of sabotaging the director's orders. Nonetheless, Daisy couldn't seem to find it within herself to feel even a slight prickle of guilt, instead spurred on by the overpowering instinct to protect her blood at all costs.

She was barely out of the hangar before she had disabled the jet's tracking devices and set a course for Wisconsin, making full use of the cloaking capabilities in order to maintain her cover. The three and a half hour flight had taken her just under half as much, which she was almost certain must have been some kind of world record even by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standards. She had been taught to fly by Melinda May though, and there was very little the woman did not excel at, save for small talk.

With the jet abandoned and de-cloaked in a field ten miles outside of the city, Daisy had acquired a car in order to complete the last leg of her journey to the hospital. She was sure that she had never felt as anxious in her entire life, let alone her career as a spy, but she was acutely aware as the seconds ticked by that she was drawing closer and closer to discovery. When Coulson or the others realised that she had disappeared along with a Quinjet and a drawer full of clothing, Daisy's eight hour window would vanish, sealing Cal's fate.

By the time she pulled up behind the hospital and ditched the dark blue Volvo she had hot-wired, she was forced to grit her teeth to keep her powers from bursting forth and shaking the building to its foundations. She avoided the elevators in favour of the stairs and took them two at a time until she was standing in front of the door leading to the fifth floor, which had been her father's temporary home for the past seven weeks.

Her progress down the corridor was somewhat more restrained, however, as she was forced to maintain an air of normalcy as she strolled along, peering discretely into doorways. The hood of her grey sweatshirt was pulled up high in order to obscure her face from the security cameras, since she was sure that Coulson's agents would be on her within seconds should she be recognised.

Finally, the penultimate door in the hallway yielded success, and Daisy pushed into the room with such a surge of relief flooding her that she almost cried out. Cal was seated in an armchair by the window, hands hanging limply by his sides and head cocked as he peered seemingly unseeing out into the parking lot through the chink in the blinds.

Daisy took several halting steps forward, her desire to rush into her father's arms almost overwhelming, despite his very obvious lack of coherence. She settled instead for resting a gentle hand on his shoulder blade, immediately regretting the action when she realised just how thin he had gotten as her fingertips brushed against prominent bone.

"Cal... Dad..." she murmured, sniffling in an attempt to thwart the tears that brimmed behind her lashes. Although she expected no response, the lack of light behind his once keen eyes as she knelt down in front of his chair brought a wave of sorrow crashing over Daisy that she was ill prepared for.

She stayed quiet for several seconds, her brown eyes sweeping his tired and haggard face, searching so hard for just the faintest spark of recognition that she failed to note the figure sliding through the doorway. She gathered Cal's hands into his lap, shocked by how cold to the touch his skin appeared to be, despite the warmth of the bedroom.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Daisy vowed, her jaw set in determination as she traced soothing circles over the back of her father's hand. His failure to acknowledge her pierced her heart in a way that it shouldn't have, but Daisy brushed aside her own distress as she climbed to her feet. She was not, however, expecting to be met by the sight of the tall, muscular man in a dark suit sliding the door closed behind himself.

"Agent Johnson," he said flatly by way of greeting, his hands slipping into his pockets in a move that did not go unnoticed by Daisy. She pursed her lips in response and stepped away from Cal's chair, unwilling to put him in harm's way when the inevitable fight ensued.

"I won't let you do this," she replied, her tone reminding her of a belligerent child. She crossed her arms over her chest for good measure, irritated when the agent only flashed her a tolerant smile.

"I have my orders, Agent Johnson, and so do you," he continued, hazarding a step forwards.

Almost instinctively, Daisy threw her hands up in front her body, a gesture that dared the agent to resume his approach. He only shook his head, expression neutral.

"Surely you wouldn't risk the lives of the hundreds of innocent people in this building?" he queried, his gaze beseeching as he extended a hand towards Daisy. "Please, I know this must be difficult for you, and so does Director Coulson. That's why he sent only me until his arrival. We understand you must be hurting but deep down you know that S.H.I.E.L.D. is making a good call on this one... The right call."

Daisy's hands dropped to her sides and she slowly shook her head, sadness evident in the sudden slump of her shoulders.

Softly, she replied, "You and Coulson understand shit."

The imploring expression fell away from the male agent's face at an almost comical rate as Daisy spun forward and executed a perfect roundhouse kick. Her foot connected with the centre of his chest and he fell backwards against the closed door, the handle digging into his lower back. Daisy raised her hands again, this time in a strictly defensive fighting pose, and glared pointedly at her opponent.

"You were right on one thing; I wouldn't risk the lives of hundreds of innocents by using my powers here," she snarled, aiming a deft punch at the agent as he regrouped and lunged at her. The blow struck his lower jaw and he staggered backwards far enough to allow Daisy to add, "But I was trained by the Cavalry. My powers are just a nice bonus."

"Dumb bitch..." the agent growled, touching his aching face gingerly with his fingertips. "Coulson will have your head for this."

Daisy shrugged unconcernedly, leaning backwards in order to dodge the elbow the agent directed at her nose. She seized his arm and twisted it upwards then around, enjoying the pained cry the man released as she did so. A further tug on her part and there was an audible pop as his shoulder slipped out of the socket. However, this seemed only to enrage the man rather than deter him, and he grabbed a fistful of Daisy's hair in his uninjured hand before using it to slam her head down into the metal rail of the hospital bed. Daisy grunted, seeing stars as she stumbled backwards.

"That's if I don't put you down first," he added with a snarl, using Daisy's temporary distraction to his advantage. He reached inside his jacket, his fingers closing around the handgun, which he tugged free of the holster in one smooth move. He leveled the weapon at Daisy, who simply shook her head, a half hysterical giggle bubbling from her lips.

"Didn't have time to read my file, did you?" she queried, cocking her head and surveying the agent with obvious amusement. She merely waved her hand and the weapon he clutched emitted a loud series of clicks before completely disassembling itself. The pieces clattered to the floor in a harmless pile and Daisy seized the opportunity to snatch up the bedpan from her side and, praying that it wasn't in fact full, she brought it down heavily on the agent's head. The first blow seemed only to disorientate the man but the second had greater effect, whilst the third brought him to the brink of unconsciousness, just as she had intended.

He groaned as he surveyed his adversary from his position on the floor, his eyelids already beginning to close as the darkness pulled him under.

"Tell Coulson I..." she began, the prepared apology dying on her lips as she shot a glance at her father, who seemed so small and vulnerable in that moment that she was filled with something else entirely that didn't resemble remorse in the slightest.

"Tell him he won't have my father," Daisy spat, her tone growing colder as the fury in her eyes ignited further. The agent didn't respond, already having succumbed to unconsciousness with his dislocated arm spread out at an odd angle at his side. For a brief moment Daisy considered tying the agent up but she dismissed the idea quickly, knowing that it would be a waste of precious time that she could not afford to spare.

She returned her attention to Cal, who had remained frozen throughout the entire ordeal, his hands still laid in his lap and his eyes fixed onto the parking lot.

"Cal, I don't know if you can hear me but it's Daisy," she said, gentleness creeping into her tone to replace urgency, "I'm going to get you out of here. I'll keep you safe until I can figure this whole mess out, I swear."

Cal only blinked, a small and insignificant gesture, but Daisy elected to latch onto it nonetheless as the only confirmation she needed. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and stroked a strand of soft, dark hair away from his forehead.

Her voice broke as she hissed, "Just hold on, Daddy."


	3. Chapter 3

December 6th, 2015

Safe house, Undisclosed location

For almost a week, Daisy had served as her father's caretaker, her days becoming an exhausting blur of sponge baths, spoon feeding and clearing up accidents that occurred when she wasn't quite quick enough to haul Cal across the cabin to the bathroom. She had given up entirely on the idea of salvaging the couch, which had endured one too many leakages of bodily fluids before she had hit upon the idea of wrapping the cushions in garbage bags.

Daisy was sure that she was existing on less than four hours of sleep a night, since she was either too concerned for her father's welfare or too busy hacking S.H.I.E.L.D. databases to close her eyes for any great length of time. When she woke in the mornings, she first took care of Cal's needs before parking him on the couch in front of the TV and then firing up her laptop to begin another fruitless day of seeking out answers.

Thus far she had discovered only that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best scientists had very little understanding as to what had happened to her father or why. The only slight progress she had made was to locate a paragraph in Cal's latest medical evaluation that suggested that traces of radiation had been found in his body, along with a slight decrease of white cells in his blood. However, the doctor in question had dismissed the findings as workplace exposure to x-rays given Cal's role as a vet, leaving Daisy with a trail that had once again gone cold. Her hope, along with her resolve, was beginning to crumble, and Daisy had instead spent several days simply ensuring that her location was untraceable. Checking and double checking the alarm, and even going so far as to alter her IP address to appear as though she was logging on from a different country entirely.

The safe house was one she had acquired off record and not even Coulson was aware of its existence, to the best of her knowledge. This fact brought her a degree of comfort but she was still reluctant to venture into the nearby town for supplies, especially given the fact that she had no choice but to bring Cal along with her. A man in his current state never failed to draw looks and the odd sympathetic smile, which was far more attention than a woman on the run was comfortable with. As a result, Daisy had been surviving on potato chips and cereal bars for a number of days, saving the more nutritious and soft foods such as porridge, mashed banana and canned soups for Cal. Despite her devoted care, Daisy could tell that her father's condition was worsening, and she had begun to notice a peculiar redness around his eyes that scared her. She had all but resigned herself to the fact that, without a more medically educated mind, there was very little she could do to help her father.

Huffing a sigh, Daisy pushed her chair back from the desk she had perched her laptop on and shot a glance at the wall clock. She grimaced as she realised that it was pushing 3 a.m. and she was facing the dawning of yet another day without much to show for her solid night of work.

"Coffee..." Daisy grumbled to herself, grimacing as she realised that she was once again giving voice to her own inner monologue. It was a habit that had set in around day two, when the unending silence had become too much for Daisy to bare. She had always enjoyed conversation, preferring to keep up a steady stream of chatter as she worked, which was a trait that sometimes irritated FitzSimmons no end.

In the absence of another person to talk to, Daisy had turned to the small transistor radio stashed under the kitchen sink, but the signal was poor at best and besides which there was only so much smooth jazz she could stand before she lost it entirely. Of course, she talked to Cal as she went about his care, but predictably she had yet to receive a response more significant than a prolonged blink. She had even considered that perhaps her father could communicate by some other means, and had spent several hours guiding his hand over a notepad with a pen. The result had been a single line, drawn only as Cal's hand had flopped back into his lap. When that had failed, Daisy had attempted to cajole her father into responding to questions with eye movements. He had only stared straight ahead, which had been somewhat of a blessing when Daisy had finally broken down into tears and needed fifteen minutes to collect herself.

Shuffling towards the kitchen, Daisy stifled a yawn behind her hand. She filled the coffee pot and set it on its cradle almost on autopilot, then proceeded to heap more teaspoons of sugar into her mug than Simmons would approve of.

"Carry on like that and you'll give yourself diabetes..." Daisy stated in a mock English accent that had not improved with time. She giggled at her own joke before suddenly sobering.

"Great, I've finally gone nuts," she muttered, shaking her head and letting loose a sigh that caused her shoulders to sag. The coffee pot bubbled and hissed in response, and Daisy looked to it gratefully, wondering not for the first time just how she would have made it through the next day without the blessed invention of caffeine.

She filled her mug, added a generous helping of slightly sour smelling milk, and then returned to her work space. Without thinking, she raised her mug to her lips and took a noisy gulp, which succeeded in scalding her tongue and throat before she could spit the liquid back out. She swallowed hard and let out a pained snarl, lack of sleep beginning to wear at not only her nerves but also her temper.

"Shit..." she muttered, slamming her mug onto the desk and touching her fingers to her stinging lips. In her discomfort, she barely noticed the long and low squeaking sound that followed seconds later. However, when it progressed to a thump and a loud shuffle, her ears pricked up as her training simultaneously kicked in. She was on her feet before her brain had really engaged, her eyes roving the lounge area as she searched out the potential source of the noise. Everything seemed to be in order from a first glance; the TV screen blank and dormant, the blinds drawn down over the closed window, and the door securely locked and bolted.

Somewhat nervously, Daisy moved towards the threshold of the hallway, which led off into the two small single bedrooms that she and Cal occupied, as well as the equally minuscule bathroom.

Outside, the night was perfectly still, not so much as a whisper of wind to rustle the tree branches. Daisy proceeded to the half closed door, regretting the fact that she had left her side-arm in the kitchen drawer and wondering if it would perhaps be prudent to first return for it. She pushed aside the thought, deciding that S.H.I.E.L.D. was really more of a 'go in through the windows, all guns blazing' kind of organisation, and that Cal had probably just fallen out of bed. Again. He certainly seemed to be unusually restless in his slumber lately; tossing and turning and gaining a kind of power over his movements that he did not possess on waking. Daisy had been faced with the task of hauling her father off the bedroom floor and out from a tangle of sheets at least twice a night since arriving at the cabin. She had yet to find a solution to the problem, other than lining the floor directly beside his bed with couch cushions to reduce his risk of injury.

Gently toeing the door with her bare foot so that it swung open to reveal the empty, dark hallway, Daisy let out the breath she hadn't realised she had been holding.

"Coming, Dad," she called out softly, rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie she wore as she padded into the hallway. She curled her toes against the linoleum, feeling a shiver course up her spine as a consequence of the cold. Quickening her pace, Daisy pushed into Cal's room, her eyes immediately going to the spot on the floor where she knew she would locate his crumpled form.

When she found the mound of cushions empty, her eyes ticked to the bed. The sheets were rumpled but quite obviously the bed was devoid of its usual occupant, and Daisy stumbled forward, panic overtaking her. As her mind raced and her heart thrummed against her ribcage, Daisy's distraction was such that she failed to note the bedroom door closing behind her.

In fact, she had no idea that anyone else was even in the room with her until a heavy fist swung from behind in an arc towards her head. Daisy managed to dodge the blow at the last second through sheer luck alone; a fact she rued as she picked herself up off the floor from the sideways drop and roll she had initiated to avoid the punch. In the process, however, she had managed to move herself further inside the bedroom, greatly reducing her chances of reaching the door again to retrieve her gun.

The darkness was a slight hindrance to her as she deflected a kick aimed at her stomach by crossing both arms in front of her, but Daisy had fought and won in worse situations. She seized her attacker's foot and prepared to toss him or her onto their back, hoping to wind them, but was surprised when they twisted out of her grip with very little effort. Her opponent clearly lacked any great level of combat skill but seemed to more than make up for that with brute strength alone.

Daisy barely grunted as a large fist finally connected with her jaw, sending her staggering backwards a few paces. The next punch landed on her chin and sent her head snapping painfully backwards, and she tasted blood in her mouth from where she had bitten down on her tongue. She had only seconds to regroup before the other body was launching itself at her again, this time using weight and height to its advantage.

When Daisy felt broad shoulders and a solid chest barrel into her, sending her crashing into the window ledge, she began to suspect the identity of her attacker with a kind of sinking certainty. As her back hit the window coverings, the ancient and already rickety blinds simply detached from their anchor, clattering to the floor.

Moonlight suddenly streamed in through the windowpane, and Daisy grabbed a fistful of hair in her free hand in order to yank her opponent's head backwards. The man let rip a cry of pure rage and Daisy matched it with one of her own as she struggled to thrust the figure's features into the light, thereby proving her suspicions.

A pair of narrowed hazel eyes alight with an unadulterated fury, the likes of which she had never seen before, locked with Daisy's, and her heart sank.

"Dad..." she choked out, her tone and gaze imploring as she struggled to hold onto him. Cal's only response was a snarl and he seized Daisy's wrist in one hand, then in a sharp gesture he twisted it painfully backwards.

Letting out a cry, Daisy attempted to yank her wrist free from Cal's grip. However, his fingers had closed around her like a vice and he instead propelled her across the room, using the momentum to slam her face first into the wall. Pain exploded at the front of Daisy's head and she felt her knees weakening. She was faintly aware of blood trickling down her forehead at an alarming rate but she could do very little about it as Cal spun her around to face him.

Daisy's entire body felt limp and impossibly heavy, and she barely registered when Cal's hands instead closed around her throat. He pressed her hard into the wall, almost as though he was hoping to push her through the plaster, but Daisy failed to fight back, too weak and too nauseas to do much but rasp out a plea.

"Daddy... No..." she hissed, her fingers scrabbling uselessly at Cal's hands. She rose up onto her toes as Cal lifted her higher, his choke-hold only intensifying as her feet finally left the carpeted floor. Daisy was vaguely aware that she was dangling in the air, back supported by a severely dented wall and her lungs burning for sweet oxygen, but she could no longer bring herself to care. The weight of her failure was upon her and she couldn't shake the thought that she deserved whatever came next for having let her only surviving parent down so badly.

"Please..." she choked, eyelids beginning to flutter closed as black spots swam in front of her vision. Cal remained unmoved, so far into his crazed episode that the point of return was long past. His hair fell across his eyes, momentarily obscuring his vision, but it was almost as though he couldn't see anyway, and was instead driven to move and to act by some warped instinct alone.

It was as Daisy prepared to close her eyes for the final time in her short life that salvation arrived. She was barely aware of it though, as she teetered far on the brink of unconsciousness, and when Cal released her from his hold the ground came up to meet her faster than she could register. Daisy hit the floor hard, gasping and choking and clawing at her own throat as though his fingers remained there.

She was vaguely aware of the sounds of a continuing scuffle, signifying that another person had entered the fray, but her eyelids felt as though they were suddenly made of lead and she struggled to keep them open even a fraction. From the lounge, her home-made alarm blared, resounding in her ears alongside the thumping of her pulse.

Finally, there was a loud grunt and a successive groan, and Daisy knew that her fate would be sealed within the next minute. Part of her welcomed death and the peace it promised, whilst another part of her screamed and railed against it, demanding that she recover strength she no longer possessed to clamber to her feet and keep fighting.

Feebly, Daisy pushed out her uninjured hand in the vague direction of the figure that lumbered towards her, and did her best to send out a wave of vibrations that would knock him clean off his feet. However, her fingertips barely twitched before Daisy's hand dropped back to the floor, her powers now buried too far beneath the surface of her injured body for her to connect with them.

"Careful..." the figure murmured, his voice warm and deep and pleasantly calm, "... Hurt yourself..."

Daisy was fairly certain that she was hearing only fragments of sentences but she was so far gone that couldn't have cared less if the Red Skull himself had started singing show tunes in the background. She simply longed for sleep.

Gentle fingers touched her brow and Daisy recoiled, fuelled by pain, her stomach rolling and threatening to empty her meagre dinner onto the carpet.

"... Okay... Don't fight it..." the man said, almost tenderly, his fingers now moving more carefully across her body to asses her wounds, "... Won't hurt you..."

Daisy felt herself nod, soothed by not only the words but the familiarity in his tone, and the way his hands swept across her as though she wasn't just broken, but perhaps precious.

With her last ounce of resolve, Daisy forced her eyes open, determined to look upon the face of her saviour just long enough to be filled with gratitude before unconscious took her.

The man leaned closer and finally his face swam into focus, all sharp lines and finely chiselled features, with a pair of brown eyes that held far too many secrets. Daisy let out a gasp, panic filling her, and his hand fluttered to her cheek, as though he still thought that the gesture could somehow calm her.

But Daisy was beyond the realms of calm, her mind now shrieking at her treacherous body not to fail her when she needed her strength most. The expression on his face seemed concerned and earnest and something else that Daisy could not identify ever having seen there before, but her fear was mounting and there was nothing he could do to assuage her now. After all, she was helpless in the presence of her enemy.

"Go to sleep," he stated, his words perfectly clear for just moments, "I'll take care of you."

And, against her body's will and her mind's better judgement, Daisy fell into blissful unconsciousness as Grant Ward scooped her up into his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

December 7th, 2015

Safe house, Undisclosed location

Daisy awoke with a start, a gasp rattling from her bruised throat as she raised her head from what appeared to be a cushion. Her vision was blurred and her pulse pounded in her own ears, but she noted immediately that she was not restrained and that the surrounding room was familiar.

Breathing a somewhat choked sigh of relief, Daisy realised that she was still at the safe house, laid out carefully on the couch with a pillow behind her head and a blanket draped over her legs. The wound on her forehead had been dressed with a gauze pad and her wrist had been bandaged, although both injuries throbbed relentlessly and Daisy let out a low, pained hiss.

"I didn't have any pain meds. to give you while you were out," he stated, low voice breaking through the silence and the drumming in Daisy's skull, "figured you wouldn't have wanted them anyway even if I did have them."

Daisy sat up slowly, biting back a groan as her head throbbed and the room tilted as though she was on a moving boat. Although she could hear Ward, she couldn't see him, and that fact alone was enough to kick her anxiety up a notch.

"What, you figured I wouldn't like being drugged by a traitorous asshole when I was already unconscious?" Daisy snarked, the edge to her voice betraying her fear. "Maybe you are learning."

"I saved your life," Ward bit back, his previous sympathy and tenderness all but gone, "a little gratitude wouldn't go amiss."

"Noted," Daisy retorted, swinging her legs over the side of the couch, "thanks for making sure my own father didn't choke me to death. Now, if you don't mind, I should maybe get back to dealing with that situation."

As she made a move to clamber to her feet, the edges of Daisy's vision began to blacken once again and the floor seemed to lurch up towards her. She let out a cry without meaning to as she pitched forward, but Ward was at her side in an instant, one strong arm locked around her waist as he lowered her back onto the couch.

"Take it easy, Skye," he commanded, his frown just a little less sour as he regarded her, "you've probably got one hell of a concussion there."

"I've dealt with worse," Daisy replied quietly, barely thinking as she added, "and it's Daisy now."

Ward stared back at her, then slowly a maddening smirk twitched at the corners of his lips, and it wasn't long before he was grinning down at her with unchecked amusement.

"No, it's not," he chuckled.

If she had had the energy, Daisy was almost one hundred percent certain that she would have knocked him out and left him for dead there and then. However, she was no fool, and trying to take on Grant Ward when she felt clammy, nauseas and as though she was permanently stuck on a tilt-o-whirl was a sure fire way to wind up hog-tied in the trunk of a car.

"What are you even doing here?" Daisy instead settled for, doing her best to look even mildly threatening as she flopped back against the couch cushions and pressed a hand gingerly to her forehead. She was fairly certain she was failing.

"Staking you out," Ward answered flippantly, dropping down on the couch at Daisy's side and seeming completely unconcerned by their sudden proximity. "Good job too by the looks of things."

"Shut up, you know nothing about this," Daisy snarled, gesturing to the surrounding safe house as she spoke. Apparently, however, Grant Ward knew a lot more about the situation than even Coulson himself did, considering he was the one breaking into Daisy's secret cabin to save her from the murderous intent of her father.

"I know plenty," Ward said, one eyebrow slightly arched as he observed Daisy, who was picking at the bandage on her forehead like a sulky child. Gently but firmly, Ward slapped her hand away.

"And if you play nice, maybe I'll share some of it with you," he added, the look he affixed Daisy with now pointed and somewhat more serious.

Daisy swallowed hard, falling silent as she contemplated whether or not she should voice her disbelief or simply allow Ward to keep talking himself into an explanation. When the silence had stretched out for longer than several minutes, and the latter seemed increasingly less likely, Daisy relented.

"What makes you think I'd believe a word that passes your lying, poisonous lips?" Daisy inquired, although she tamped down her irritation significantly so that she could regard Ward with just a disinterested scowl.

"Well, there is the whole 'I saved your life' thing but, if that's not enough for you," Ward replied, affixing her with yet another smug grin, "it doesn't take a former secret agent with a team of dedicated men at his disposal to work out that you're flying solo here. You're out in the middle of nowhere, cut off from S.H.I.E.L.D., in Coulson's bad graces, and with a mysteriously dying father who still keeps managing to off people when your back is turned."

Despite the pain ricocheting around her skull, Daisy snapped her head up at Ward's words, her glare piercing.

"Who said he was dying?" she demanded, fingertips digging into the couch cushions to steady herself.

"He's dying, Skye," Ward responded, although his voice was gentler and somehow even apologetic as he delivered the blow. With a wince, almost as though he were afraid of her reaction, he added, "I'm sorry."

"No, he's sick, but it's not... He's not..." Daisy stammered, rubbing at her suddenly bleary eyes in an attempt to scrub away the tears threatening to fall. "He isn't dying. He'll be okay. I can fix him."

Ward continued to stare at her for several moments, his eyes sweeping her face and taking in every small detail, every change that had occurred since the last time they had met when fighting side by side to infiltrate a Hydra facility. After Simmons' attempt on his life, he had gone dark for a time, disappearing into Europe where he lay low at an apartment he owned whilst he gathered his wits. It had taken him the better part of a week to decide on a plan that had seemed both sound and somewhat more morally abject than he was used to. However, Ward had emerged from Greece a far wiser and more collected man, and had begun gathering a team of mercenaries and ex disgraced agents around himself as he had continued on towards England.

"Your father has been exposed to a man made poison. It was derived from alien compounds, mutated from exposure to large levels of radiation. Symptoms include seizures, elevated heart rate, reduced brain activity, catatonia, paralysis, and eventual death. The virus attacks the frontal lobe of the brain until it's compromised the specific inhibiting circuits that allow the victim their freewill. Once that has been achieved and the virus has taken a physical hold of the subject, it's possible to influence their actions in accordance with your own desires. Of course, because of the complications of paralysis, there's no way to know when your perfect little puppet will snap out of it long enough to get the job done. But they will get the job done," Ward explained, his eyes never once leaving Daisy's face as he spoke. The confusion and fear he saw crash across her features brought a genuine pang of regret to his heart, but he brushed it aside in order to focus on the job at hand.

"Is there an antidote?" Daisy demanded, turning her eyes hopefully to Ward's face, searching every inch of his expression for the slightest traces of dishonesty. There were none.

Slowly, Ward nodded, "There is but it's largely untested and carries a high mortality rate."

Daisy fell silent again, gnawing on her bottom lip as she struggled with her indecision.

"How do you even know all this? You can't just storm in here out of the blue after zero contact for nearly 6 months and expect me to trust you," Daisy stated, her tone subdued.

"I don't ever expect you to trust me," Ward replied, sighing as he perched on the edge of the coffee table so that he faced Daisy.

"I want answers, Ward," Daisy said firmly, her eyes narrowing as she jabbed a finger into his chest, "what's your play here? First you dump Kara back at S.H.I.E.L.D., then you go off grid for months without so much as a peep, and now you're at my safe house that nobody is supposed to know about, spying on me, and with mysterious intel. about my father coming out the wazoo. Forgive me if my Spidey-senses are tingling."

Ward rubbed one hand over his grizzled jaw, and Daisy noted for the first time just how weary he looked. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his hair was a little longer than he would usually have allowed it to become, curling around the nape of his neck and the top of his ears.

"After that last mission, I decided I needed some time. I guess to re-evaluate my life and the shitty decisions that had gotten me to where I was," Ward said softly, deliberately avoiding Daisy's gaze as his eyes swept the room before settling on the clock on the wall, "I went to Thessaloniki, spent a while soul searching, trying to decide where my loyalties lay. When I came up empty handed I kind of figured that maybe I was tired of taking orders... Maybe I didn't believe enough in anyone else's vision, any more."

"I'm sorry but, as much as I'm enjoying this portrait of Grant Ward, what the hell does this have to do with my father?" Daisy snapped as Ward turned back to regard her. Despite her obvious annoyance, a smile ghosted across Ward's lips, almost as though her anger amused him.

"I'm getting there," he soothed, one hand moving to rub the back of his neck. "I decided to gather my own team. Nothing too big or too grand, just some mercs. and the odd ex agent."

"What for?" Daisy interjected immediately, her suspicions aroused at the admittance. The idea of Grant Ward, former Hydra agent, surrounding himself with a team of his own choosing was an alarming one to say the least, but Ward smiled at her easily, holding up both hands in a placating gesture.

"Government work may not be for me, Skye, but a guy's gotta make a living somehow," he replied, "there's money in private sector security... Private investigation... Rich people tend to have secrets that other rich people like to exploit."

Daisy snorted with laughter, shaking her head as she said with evident disbelief, "You? A private dick?"

"Been called a lot worse," Grant quipped, chuckling as Daisy shook her head.

"And me and my dad fit into this how?" she pressed, seeming to relax somewhat as she listened to Ward tell his story.

"I settled for a while in England. I was supposed to be meeting with an ex MI5 agent who claimed he wanted to join me. Instead, I found S.W.O.R.D."

"What the hell is S.W.O.R.D.?" Daisy inquired, wrinkling her nose as she tested out the name on her lips. She found that it inexplicably left a bad taste in her mouth, and she leaned forwards towards Grant as he continued to explain.

"The Sentient World Observation and Response Department," Ward answered, his expression darkening and his mouth drawing into a thin line. "One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s little offshoots."

"So Coulson knows about them?" demanded Daisy, her nausea rising as she contemplated the idea that Coulson, the man she trusted with her life, was collaborating with the people who were trying to murder her father.

"I don't believe so," Ward said, shaking his head, "Director Abigail Brand was a S.H.I.E.L.D. Specialist before the fall. Nothing too extraordinary in her abilities but one hell of a strategist. Right after the Battle of New York she became fixated on the alien threat. S.H.I.E.L.D. were watching her very closely when she started attending conspiracy rallies and meetings with former Hydra scientists. She shouted to anyone who'd listen about the dangers of not only aliens but also powered people, anyone who might be remotely affiliated with anything extraterrestrial."

"Gees, Ward," Daisy grumbled, "you're making me sound like freaking E.T."

"I'm being serious, Skye," Ward countered, his gaze imploring as he leaned towards her and placed a hand on her knee. Surprisingly, she didn't recoil, but a blush coloured the apples of her cheeks and she looked away.

"Abigail is dangerous. She's using this virus that S.W.O.R.D. labs created to quietly end the alien threat, as she sees it," explained Ward.

"Abigail?" Daisy repeated, quirking a brow. "Sounds like you two are close."

Ward sighed and shook his head, withdrawing his hand from Daisy's knee. She found she missed the contact, surprisingly enough.

"I met with her in England. She wanted me to join her team. Like me, she was recruiting ex agents, specialists, mercenaries... Anyone she could bring around to her way of thinking and that would prove useful," he said, glancing away momentarily at the hurt look that flashed across Daisy's face.

"I see," she said coolly, crossing her legs and leaning back against the couch again, "and what did you say?"

"Told her I'd think about it, but that I needed more information," Ward stated, shrugging unapologetically. "She granted me restricted access to their databases and files. Figured that I'd hate S.H.I.E.L.D. enough to sell you out one final time."

"Don't you?" Daisy retorted, trying desperately to keep the hopeful edge from her voice. Grant Ward meant nothing to her now and she needed to remember that fact in order to protect not only herself but also her father.

"I don't hate S.H.I.E.L.D.," Ward answered, regret washing over his features, "I would never have left Kara with them if I did. I understand what I did, Skye, and I know exactly what I deserve for my betrayal. We had something good... Something like a family, and I screwed that up. I don't blame Coulson or you or S.H.I.E.L.D. for any of that. I just don't want to follow them again."

Daisy nodded, indecision and mistrust weighing heavily upon her. She wanted so badly to believe him; to consider the idea that Grant Ward was perhaps not looking for redemption, but perhaps not running from it either.

"If I say I believe you..." Daisy began, tailing off as Ward stared at her, something startlingly intense in his look.

"The virus is ingested and it's non-contagious. That's about as much as I know on that front. She's infecting people with known and significant ties to the Inhuman community, and then using them to murder anyone she believes to be a key player, or simply too dangerously powerful to be allowed to continue living," Ward said, shaking his head as he added, "the doctor was Inhuman. You were supposed to be next. After that, Cal's got a date with a post-Terrigenesis politician in Idaho."

"And where's this antidote? Don't tell me it's all the way over the pond in England because..." she began, shaking her head and wincing as the motion caused a jarring ache behind her eyes.

"It's here, in Washington. There's a S.W.O.R.D. facility just outside of Virginia," Ward supplied, glancing at Daisy with obvious concern as he wondered if perhaps her injuries were more severe than he first thought. "Look, maybe we should get you checked out at a hospital?"

"Hello, on the run. Besides, I'm fine," Daisy replied, sighing as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb, willing her pounding headache to abate just a fraction. Appearing weak and fragile in front of Grant Ward was something she would have liked to have avoided at all costs.

"Skye, come on..." he sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes as she once again informed him with dampened conviction that her name was now Daisy. "All right, whatever... I just want to make sure you're okay."

Shooting him a mildly suspicious glance, Daisy arched an eyebrow in his direction. "What do you care if I'm okay? We're enemies, Ward. I'm the good guy and you're the... The... I don't know what you are right now. All I know is, I need to save my dad."

"Let me help, that's all I'm asking," Ward offered, rising to his feet and striding over to the kitchen area. He reached into the cabinet above the sink and pulled out a packet of Advil, before filling a glass with water and returning to Daisy. He handed her the pills and the tumbler wordlessly, watching as she shot them a suspicious look before dry swallowing them.

"Why do you want to help me?" she demanded, slamming her glass onto the coffee table without taking a sip. Her eyes blazed and she regarded Ward dangerously, clearly irritated, "I was never that important to you before."

"You know that's not true," Ward shot back, his own anger beginning to surface, "I have never wanted to hurt you and it kills me every single damn day that I ever did. I know I'm beyond making it right but... I just can't stand to think of someone causing you pain. I'm here to help you, if you'll have me."

"And if I won't?" Daisy inquired, not missing a beat. Ward averted his gaze and shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

"Then I'll leave you with all the intel. I have and hope it works out for you," he replied through gritted teeth, his arms crossed over his chest.

Daisy swallowed against the feel of a pill sticking in her throat and finally consented to drink down a few hurried gulps of water. The sensation remained, however, and she wondered if it was perhaps more to do with Ward's presence than errant medication.

"No you won't," she said quietly, staring straight ahead and refusing to hold his gaze. "Even if I tell you to go, you'll just carry on stalking me."

Ward smiled and leaned back in his seat, "I prefer 'helping' to 'stalking' but..."

"So I guess you might as well stay," Daisy huffed, horrified by the shiver of excitement that coursed through her at the prospect of having him beside her again. Ward was most definitely a formidable ally to have on side, but she feared it was a wholly different sort of pleasure that she found in his newly sworn allegiance. As if suddenly coming to her senses, Daisy sat up straighter, her eyes wide with panic as she shot a glance toward her father's room.

"Where's my dad? What did you do to him?"

Ward sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, "If we're gonna be partners in this little venture, you're going to need to at least trust me enough not to hurt you or your father... Daisy."

His tone was teasing as he said her name, and Daisy bristled.

"He's in bed, restrained. I gave him a mild sedative. He's fine, go check on him if you don't believe me."

Her brow knitting into a frown, Daisy nodded and began picking at invisible threads on her jeans in what she hoped was a non-committal manner.

"So why's this Abigail chick so bent on having you join her? Or do I not want to know the sordid details?"

Ward paused, taking a moment to enjoy the sliver of jealousy that flashed across Daisy's features in that moment.

"It's not like that, I told you, and I know that you don't care, but it wasn't like that with me and Kara, either."

Daisy guffawed so hard she almost burst out laughing, "Oh, yeah. Okay, Ward. Whatever you say."

Her incredulous expression made him laugh softly but he shrugged his shoulders anyway, indicating that he didn't care whether or not she believed him.

"It's the truth. She needed a friend and so did I. That's it."

Daisy rounded on him almost the second the words left his lips, "You had friends, Ward. You had people who cared about you! You had a family. And I... I..."

Me, she thought. You could have had me.

The regret written clearly across his face prevented her from continuing and Daisy looked away, marginally guilty to be giving him hell when he was sacrificing so much to help her.

"It will never be enough but, I'm sorry," Ward said quietly, his eyes flickering closed as he paused, "I don't expect your forgiveness. We'll get the job done and then you have my word that I will leave you alone."

Daisy swallowed hard, reaching for her glass of water and gulping down a few sips, more for something to do than out of actual thirst. When she had finished and set the glass aside, she looked again to Ward, who seemed to be waiting for her direction.

"You can take my room, I want to stay with my dad. We'll catch a few hours sleep and then we'll go from there," Daisy stated, sighing as she added, "thank you for helping me out earlier, and for... this. I appreciate it."

Ward nodded, happy to follow her orders. His body was weary, and after days of travel across the globe and an impromptu fight with the super powered Dr. Johnson, he would for once be glad of the opportunity to rest. Being in such close proximity to Daisy again would be problematic; he had never stopped longing for her, never stopped loving her. Yet he knew that nothing could ever exist between them now. Watching her walk away from S.W.O.R.D. unscathed would have to be enough.

Rising from the couch, Ward paused as he reached the doorway of the hall, hesitating for a few seconds before he finally spoke. Lifting his gaze to Daisy's somewhat surprised face, he hoped the truth in his eyes would serve as a testament to his words.

"I'd never let anybody hurt you, Daisy. You wanted to know why I'm here? I'm here for you. Not for your dad, not for a job... Just... you. I know we can never be anything to each other again, but I need you to know that. I need you to trust me to have your back out there, because all I want to do is keep you safe."

Daisy searched his face for a moment and then consented to bob her head. Drawing her knees up into her chest, she propped her chin on her arm and waited until he was almost out of earshot before she replied.

"I do... trust you to help me."

Ward seemed surprised by the admission, and a brief yet genuine smile tugged at his lips.

"Okay. Well... good."

They simply stared at each other for a few moments, neither quite knowing what to do or say next, but it was Ward who eventually departed with a whisper of 'goodnight'.

Daisy inhaled then blew out a deep, unsteady breath, hoping against hope that she was making the right decision. Glancing around the room, she curled her legs even closer to her chest and waited until she heard the door to the bedroom she had offered Ward click closed.

Addressing herself and the silent room, Daisy muttered, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself in to."


	5. Chapter 5

December 7th, 2015

Daisy had barely managed a few hours of sleep before her nightmares had roused her. She awoke once again on the couch, surprised to find Ward moving quietly around the kitchen as he fixed a pot of coffee and searched in the refrigerator for anything half edible. Although she was confident he would find nothing, she remained silent, watching him for half a minute before she cleared her throat.

"I've taken the liberty of calling a friend to watch your father," Ward said, foregoing a greeting and instead turning around with a coffee mug already in his hand. He passed it over the back of the couch to Daisy, and she consented to a tiny smile as she realised that he had already added milk and stirred in sugar for her.

"Who is this friend?" she asked, doing her best not to sound too suspicious as she cradled her mug and watched him carefully.

"His name's Kebo, he's a good guy, very loyal, handy with a sidearm," Ward recounted, his reassuring smile still leaving Daisy somewhat nervous at the prospect. "Your father will be safe with him."

"He's ex Hydra, isn't he?" Daisy demanded, arching a brow and almost daring Ward to break his promise and lie to her.

"Yes," Ward replied without missing a beat, "but you can trust him, I promise. He won't let anything bad happen to your father whilst we're gone."

Daisy took a sip of her coffee, making sure her gaze never left his. She had gone to such trouble to keep Cal safe, to now entrust his care into the hands of a former Hydra agent didn't sit well with her.

"Maybe you can trust him," she grumbled, suddenly starting as Ward stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"And you can trust me. I thought we already established that last night?" he asked, watching as a dubious smile settled on her lips and she rolled her eyes in response.

Ward squeezed her shoulders gently, pleased and also somewhat surprised when she didn't pull away or flinch at his touch. Not wishing to push his luck any further, he strolled back over to the kitchen, throwing open the two remaining cabinets with both hands.

"What have you been living on?" he demanded, finding no trace of anything that resembled food, save for a few cartons of apple sauce that he supposed were for Cal.

"Me?" Daisy pretended to ponder the query for a moment before she replied, "uh, let's see, mostly coffee, breath mints, and a side of total, heart stopping anxiety."

"We're stopping for food on the way," Ward stated, leaving little room for argument. Daisy looked thin and pale, and judging from her appearance was doing very little to take care of herself. Ward intended to look after her at least whilst he was around, no matter how difficult she might try to make that task.

"It's a mission, Ward. We're not getting drive-through."

Picking up his jacket, he fished his car keys out of his pocket and nodded toward the door to indicate that they needed to leave. Removing his phone from his pocket, he scrolled hastily through a message.

"Kebo's outside, we need to leave. Bring your handcuffs and that rope," he nodded over toward the kitchen counter, where a blue plastic rope sat rather suspiciously beside the sink.

"Uh, Ward... first of all, I call the shots here, and... let's cut the Mr. Grey crap. I read the books and they were just... wrong. So, so wrong."

"Abigail gave me a contact number, in case I changed my mind. Obviously a burner cell but I've made the call and she's expecting me by the end of the day. It was the only way to arrange a meeting and get us inside S.W.O.R.D. headquarters," Ward said, glancing away somewhat sheepishly as he admitted, "I kind of told her I er... had you?"

The statement came out sounding far more like a question than Ward had ever intended, and he winced as Daisy glared at him, enraged.

"Before you react, remember that you need me on this," Ward interjected, suddenly glancing out of the window as a car horn sounded outside.

"We'll talk about this in the car," Daisy ground out through gritted teeth, before storming out of the front door, rope clutched grudgingly in her uninjured hand.

Kebo, as it happened, was a tall, burly, bald Englishman with an accent that Daisy couldn't quite place, but which made him sound somewhat more affable than dangerous. He had greeted Ward with a hug, which had astounded Daisy into silence for a good minute, before he had turned to her, given her the once over and a wink, and promised that he would take care of her father as though he were his own. Surprisingly, Daisy had been somewhat assured and had thanked Kebo with a warm smile, before Ward had bundled her into his rental car. She had called shotgun purposefully so she could toy with the stereo and exact her revenge on him the old fashioned way; through 80s power ballads and mullet rock.

"I can't believe we're playing the damn hostage card," Daisy growled for the fourteenth time, shelving her anger only long enough to forage around in the McDonalds take out bag that Ward had dropped onto her knee after their last stop. For a secret agent, the man took a surprising amount of bathroom breaks, although Daisy suspected that most of the stops were for her benefit, since she was quite obviously not up to her usual strength.

"If you can think of another way in, I'm all ears," he tried to appease her, casting a glance in her direction and smiling somewhat smugly to himself as she chewed on a handful of fries whilst she processed her annoyance.

Mulling it over and coming to the same conclusion Ward himself had, Daisy sighed and took a slurp of soda. The ice cold liquid soothed her burning throat, and she regretted ever having tried to thwart the much needed food stop.

"Fine," she snapped, although the sharp glare she shot at him was more playful than truly angry. "But you do know I have bad ass powers now, right? I can literally kill you with my little finger?"

Ward chuckled, recalling her performance at the Hydra base when he had last worked with Coulson's team. To say he had been stunned by her exhibition would be an understatement, although he also found it far more arousing than he knew he should have.

"I know," he assuaged, glancing in the rear view mirror at the traffic as a precautionary gesture - the last thing they needed was a tail.

Forgetting her anger for a moment, Daisy foraged around in the bag and was visibly delighted to find a box of cookies in her hand.

"You got me cookies?"

"I know you like them," Ward replied, shrugging. He glanced at her sharply as he found her peering at him, a cookie held up in her hand like a peace offering.

"Thanks," he took it with a grateful smile, watching from the corner of his eye as she bit into hers and released an appreciative groan. Ward swallowed, fixing his eyes back on the highway ahead, desperately trying to ignore the little shiver that had coursed down his spine at the sound Daisy had made.

"So... Where exactly are we headed?" Daisy demanded through a mouthful of half chewed cookie. Crumbs spilled from her lips and tumbled down the front of her shirt, and Ward smirked in response.

"Office building on the outskirts of the next town over," Ward replied, swiftly changing lanes with a glance in the wing mirror. "We should probably pull over soon and er... Make you look slightly more like a prisoner."

"Kinky," Daisy quipped, her smile fading and her eyes widening as she appeared to realise the implications of what she had said. "I didn't mean... I mean, I... Well, you know... There's..."

"Skye..." Ward began, frowning as he corrected himself quickly, "Daisy, it's okay. I know a joke when I hear one."

"You can call me Skye... If you want to... I don't really mind..." Daisy said quietly, shoving another cookie into her mouth and purposefully glancing away from Ward to stare out of the passenger side window.

"Skye, you don't have to worry about me trying to jump your bones," Ward said softly, his tone earnest, "I know there's nothing between us now. I swear to you, I'm just here to help and when this is all over, you don't have to hear from me again."

Rolling her eyes as she attempted to quickly swallow down her mouthful of food, Daisy regarded him with a sober expression.

"Jump my bones?" she guffawed at his choice of expression, smiling pointedly at him as she added, "and I know you wouldn't do something like that, okay?"

Ward nodded, starting suddenly as Daisy craned her neck to examine his face and then reached up to brush a stray patch of crumbs from the side of his lip.

"Sorry. No self-respecting kidnapper goes in to broker a deal with cookie crumbs on his lips, unless he's psyching out the Cookie Monster."

Daisy smiled at her own joke, pulling down the visor so that she could inspect her own mouth for signs of the cookies, cheeseburger, fries, and box of chicken nuggets she'd consumed.

"Ironically, Ward, you might be the only person I can trust right now," she mused, flipping the visor back up and sighing. "So what's the plan? You gonna rough me up a little? Throw a bag over my head? I wasn't so fond of that last time."

Ward looked suitably appalled and narrowed his eyes at her very suggestion, "Absolutely not... the bruises from the incident with Cal last night will look convincing enough."

Shaking his head in obvious disdain, he echoed, "Rough you up? Seriously, Skye?"

"We need to be convincing. Although thanks to your little psycho Garrett episode, I guess I do have material to work with." She shot him a sly smile and her hand briefly landed on his knee to assure him that it was now (mostly) good-natured teasing.

Minutes later, Ward pulled the car over in the parking lot of a diner, and the pair hid behind a row of industrial sized skips in order to bind Daisy's hands with the rope. She also undid the first few buttons on her shirt and pulled it free from the waist of her jeans, before allowing Ward to run both hands through her hair to tousle it. When they were satisfied that she looked somewhat more like the victim of a violent kidnapping, they disposed of the take-out bag and clambered back into the car, both falling into a nervous silence.

The drive to the office building passed quicker than Daisy had expected, and it wasn't long altogether before Ward was pulling the car into an almost empty parking lot. The barrier at the guard station lifted and Daisy immediately scowled at the man who leaned into the car through the window Ward rolled down.

"Grant Ward, here to see Abigail. Tell her I brought her package," Ward barked, his amicable smile now gone and replaced with a look of such cold indifference that Daisy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand erect.

"Package? I'm a fucking package now?" Daisy demanded, making a pantomime of fidgeting with her bonds. Ward only glowered at her and she shrank back in her seat, determined to play her role well.

By the time they reached the inner halls of the building, Ward had managed to attract two guards to accompany him, and he was frog-marching a struggling Daisy with a forceful grasp on her bound wrists.

"Ms. Brand is waiting for you," one of the guards stated, throwing open a rather ornate looking mahogany door and gesturing for Ward to enter. He pushed Daisy in before him, his eyes connecting with those of the blonde seated behind the desk. The smirk that he flashed her was nothing short of ruthless.

"Mr. Ward," she crooned, leaning back in her seat and surveying both him and his prisoner with a discerning eye.

Daisy glowered back at the young S.W.O.R.D. director, surprised to find an unassuming and very pretty woman sitting in the chair. She had expected somebody older, somebody with more of an outwardly threatening air about them, although on closer examination, Abigail's eyes shone with a quietly menacing countenance.

"I think this completes my end of the deal," Ward stated, shoving Daisy forward and tugging on the rope as she flung a tirade of curse words and insults at him.

"You're as good as they say you are," Abigail said, impressed, "perhaps even better."

Ward smirked, his ego apparently stroked by her flattery. But the moment was fleeting, and all too soon he switched the topic of conversation to more official matters.

"If you'll give me my money, I'll be on my way. The girl's all yours..."

Abigail nodded, her pout rueful as she began, "I had hoped you'd consider joining us for good. A man like you would be a fine addition to my team."

She smiled and Daisy couldn't help but think she looked like a boa constrictor about to swallow a whole goat.

Ward narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he replied, "Kind of enjoy being my own boss. Like I said, I only wanted in on this because of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Daisy struggled against her bindings and scowled furiously at the pair. "Ward, I'm gonna kick your sorry, psychopathic ass!"

"She's a real talker," Ward observed dryly, chuckling at Daisy and tapping her cheek as she snarled at him. Abigail's expression soured somewhat but she quickly regained her composure.

Shooting a look at Daisy, the woman inquired curiously, "Did she fall for it?"

Ward laughed and from her position beside him Daisy heard the rumble of amusement in his chest. Casting a sly glance at her, Ward smiled dangerously.

"Hook, line, and sinker."

Daisy fell silent as the grave, her act forgotten, and she affixed Ward with an incredulous look. There was something familiar lurking behind his smile, something Daisy recognised from long ago; something that resembled betrayal.

"You..." she stuttered, her hands falling to the rope, which she tugged on experimentally. The bonds didn't give, so tight, in fact, that she realised they were almost cutting off her circulation.

"You played me," she whispered, a tear beginning to trip down her cheek as she stared at Ward and the woman behind the desk, who appeared to be enjoying her distress.

"All I had to do was show up, save her life, feed her just enough information about the compound, and promise that I was on her side," Ward declared, reaching out a hand as Abigail pulled a briefcase from under her desk. "I have one of my men with her father. We can cross him off within the half hour, if that's what you want."

Daisy's stomach turned and she fought the sudden urge to vomit, turning her disgusted gaze away from Ward, partly to obscure his view of the cascade of tears leaking from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Skye, but... I want S.H.I.E.L.D. gone. They took my life away," Ward explained, just a hint of regret colouring his tone, "like I said before, it's nothing personal but you really should have known better than to trust me. That was a rookie mistake."

Ignoring Abigail's presence for the moment, Daisy said softly, regretfully, "You know what the saddest thing is, Ward? I finally understood why you turned out the way you did... with Garrett and Hydra... and I still cared about you. I think maybe I could have even forgiven you."

Ward had clearly not been expecting such an admission, and he gaped as he glanced hurriedly back at Abigail, then at their prisoner.

"What?" he demanded, shaking his head.

Daisy laughed, although there was no humour present on her face, only intense sadness and regret.

"Us, Ward," she explained, her breath hitching as she peered at the floor, "I thought that maybe we could have been something more than just... Never mind. I guess I was dumb."

"This is touching," Abigail sighed, examining the cash in the metal case before her, "but can we speed things up a little? Some of us have a schedule to keep."

Faltering for just a second, Ward removed the syringe he had stashed away in his pocket, and used his teeth to remove the cap. Holding Daisy from behind, he swallowed hard as he watched her eyes settle on the needle.

"What the hell is that? Don't you fucking dare!" Daisy shouted, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she dissolved into panic. "Please, Ward..."

She attempted to fling her head backwards, almost catching Ward on the nose, but he dodged the blow at the last second and wrapped his arm around Daisy's neck. She gasped as the inside of his elbow pressed against her bruised windpipe, making her throat burn as though it were on fire, and effectively ending her struggle.

As he leaned closer, Ward's cheek brushed her own and Daisy shuddered at the unwelcome sensation. His lips ghosted past her ear, and her body shook with suppressed sobs as he whispered a half-hearted apology.

He pressed his mouth almost tenderly against her cheek just as he drove the syringe into her arm and released the serum into her bloodstream. Tossing the empty syringe onto the desk, he waited for her to grow weak in his arms before he hoisted her up against his chest. He addressed Abigail with a bored, almost resigned tone, only the slightest trace of guilt flashing across his features.

"She'll be out for a few hours. That stuff should knock her powers out until morning. Got it from an old Hydra buddy."

"You know, you could stick around, Grant," Abigail reiterated, gesturing for one of the guards to retrieve the unconscious Daisy from his arms. Briskly, she directed, "Take her to the holding cells. Make sure she's restrained properly. She's still a field agent, powers or not."

The guard nodded and scurried from the room, hefting Daisy easily in his arms, whilst Ward's eyes followed him until he disappeared.

"What's in it for me?" Ward demanded, accepting the briefcase that was offered to him.

"The chance to be instrumental in taking S.H.I.E.L.D. apart. The opportunity to protect the world and be that hero that your file insists you always wanted to be," Abigail implored, her eyes gleaming as she spoke, "the game has changed, Ward. Stick with me and you could be a major player. You have my word."

Ward watched her expression closely, a sense of unease at potentially having been double-crossed himself souring his mood. The case of money closed and set protectively at his side, Ward turned his attention to the director.

"Changed how?" he inquired, mild interest colouring his voice.

Abigail grinned, perching on the edge of her desk as she motioned for Ward to take the chair that stood in front of her. Reluctantly, almost suspiciously, he complied, although he slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans in order to close his fingers around the handle of his gun.

"Well, for one thing, my plan for the lovely Daisy Johnson has become more poetic, if you will?"

Ward smirked and glanced away momentarily, amused by the woman's apparent flair for dramatic monologue, "All right, I'll bite. I guess now I'm curious, so why don't you show me?"

Abigail rewarded him with an enigmatic smile and, taking the key card from around her neck, she hopped off her desk, purpose in her stance.

"Mr. Ward, I thought you'd never ask."


	6. Chapter 6

December 8th, 2015

S.W.O.R.D. H.Q., Somewhere outside Washington

Tugging at the metal restraints that secured her to the prison cot, Daisy let out a growl of frustration when they refused to yield. They were fastened so tightly around her wrists that even slight movement of her fingers was impossible and Daisy quickly gave up trying, concerned that she would only damage her injured wrist more. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and attempted to regulate her breathing, fighting to calm both her mind and body.

When she reopened them, a mere minute later, it was to the sight of Abigail Brand sliding inside the open cell door, a chipper smile spread across her features.

"Glad to see you're awake," she commented, walking towards Daisy's cot and drawing to a halt several steps in front of it, hands clasped behind her back. "You've been out quite a while."

"Fuck you," Daisy spat, turning her head away from the woman, fury crashing across her features.

"Ward was right. You really do hold a grudge," the woman chuckled, seemingly unconcerned by Daisy's anger, "no matter. The situation is a fairly simple one, you'll realise in time."

Daisy's frown deepened as Ward slipped through the still open doorway, a handful of guards in his wake. The men pushed a metal trolley, which was complete with its own bindings at both ankle and wrist height.

The guards made a move as if to force Daisy onto the gurney, but Abigail held up her hand and directed a look instead at her new business partner.

"Perhaps Grant would like to do the honours? What's that word we talked about earlier? Ah yes... 'closure'."

Ward stared silently at Daisy before he nodded in ready agreement.

"And this'll do the same thing to her as her old man?" he checked, hands still at his sides, eyes still locked with those of the woman he had once again betrayed.

"Not to quite the same extent. She'll appear to most to be unharmed, if not slightly less... boisterous than usual," Abigail glanced down at her captive, disdain in her eyes, "but once we've programmed her, she'll take out the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. base. The girl can literally bring the building down on their heads."

"Coulson and his team first though, right?" Ward double-checked, making his way over to Daisy, who was thrashing against her restraints with renewed enthusiasm.

"Of course," Abigail agreed, holding up her hands in a placating gesture, "a deal is a deal, Ward."

"You're despicable!" Daisy spat, her eyes boring into Ward's skull as he purposefully tried to avoid her gaze by ducking his head. He scooped her up from the cot almost effortlessly and wasted no time in placing her onto the waiting trolley. He remained silent throughout, even as he pushed her against the metal, all the while ducking to avoid kicks and clumsy attempts to head-butt him. His fingers worked quickly, freeing her from one set of cuffs and encasing her wrists in another in just a fraction of a second. Despite knowing it was useless, Daisy continued to resist, refusing to make any part of her captivity easy. Abigail watched Ward with approval, and as he stepped away from the gurney, she gestured for the guards to follow them out into the hallway.

"I'm sure Mr. Ward can handle matters from here on out. Agents Rook and Yardley, you're dismissed. Agents Dwayne and Muniz, with us."

Ward smiled an ominous smile and Abigail cast one last fleeting glance at Daisy whilst the agents fell into their assigned positions. Once satisfied, Abigail began to stalk down the corridor, clicking her fingers to encourage her lackeys to follow before she called out over her shoulder.

"We have things to prepare in the lab. Follow me!"

Waiting for the heavy metal cell door to slam closed behind them, Ward leaned over Daisy and swept a slow gaze over her body. Arching an eyebrow he reached out to brush a tendril of hair from her cheek.

"Ready to scream?" he murmured, just a hint of a smile affecting his lips.

Daisy remained silent, refusing to do anything but glare, and resolved in the fact that someone would indeed scream, but it would not be her.

x-x-x

The lab was comparatively small to FitzSimmons' lab back at the Playground, just a single room with one box sized containment pod attached to it, complete with a viewing window. Daisy stayed quiet as Ward wheeled the bed into the pod and once again checked her restraints, his eyes roving her body and his smile triumphant.

"All set, Rookie," he quipped, laughing as Daisy growled at him and turned her head away. Ward exited the pod, moving to stand in front of the viewing window with Abigail, who was wearing an expression of such delight that she was practically glowing.

A speaker crackled into life as the door swung closed behind Ward, sealing Daisy into the room, where she would wait for the first of the scientists.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Daisy snarled, her voice already hoarse from shouting. "What have I ever done to you, you crazy bitch? What have my people done to deserve being hunted down and crossed off one by one?"

Abigail let out a small and almost regretful sigh, stepping closer to the microphone that would feed her response into Daisy's new holding cell.

"I'm not crazy, Agent Johnson," she said quietly, almost ruefully, "I understand that you people can't help the way you were born. Most of you never asked for this... Never wanted it. But that doesn't change the fact that you're dangerous. Every last one of you. I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect people and that is still the very ethos behind S.W.O.R.D. Coulson has gone soft and I'm not the first to say it. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hard-line with the alien threat is nowhere near hard enough, and every last innocent civilian that gets buried underneath this crap is a reminder to me that we are not safe. From you."

"You want to do the right thing?" Daisy demanded, "then let me go! I am not a threat to you or anyone else. My father is not a threat. You used him. You destroyed him!"

"Your father made himself one of them, he polluted his own gene pool by breeding with one of them. He is no friend to human kind."

Daisy's eyebrows shot up and her tone was outraged, "Hey, I'm right here!"

"Yes, yes you are, and there's no use fighting it, Daisy. Nobody can help you now and nobody should. You're just making things harder on yourself."

Daisy stilled against the cold metal restraints and her eyes landed on Ward, who had remained uncharacteristically silent for the exchange. If Daisy knew anything of Grant Ward's true personality, it was that he was seldom lacking for a smart-ass quip or comment.

Abigail glanced to the man beside her, having easily intercepted Daisy's line of sight. She smiled almost pityingly at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, as if her couple more years on Earth meant she held great wisdom on matters of life and love that needed to be imparted.

"I know it was quite ruthless of me to exploit your past with Ward, and I know it hurts when the man you loved betrays you."

Interrupting the impending Hallmark moment with a roll of her eyes and a grunt of disdain, Daisy looked directly at her former S.O., a small smile blossoming on her lips.

"I don't know," Daisy stated, cocking her head, "I think I might be able to work past that one day."

Ward pulled the two ICERS from the holster at his back with lightning speed and seconds later the two guards that had been standing to attention behind him sank to the floor, their foreheads marked with a strange blue matter.

Grasping Abigail's elbow firmly, Ward swung her around until her back was flush against his chest before he pressed an arm into her throat, holding her in place. He watched with satisfaction as Daisy effortlessly pulled her wrists free of their the restraints before sitting up on the trolley and shattering the metal binds at her ankles with a quick jolt of her powers.

"Daisy? You okay?" he checked, feeling a familiar sensation of adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. Abigail struggled in his grasp, clearly testing his strength as she tugged against his arm. Ward remained on guard, waiting for the former specialist to attempt to break free, as she invariably would.

Brushing herself down, Daisy looked up toward the window and grinned, trying not to let her delight at their plan's resounding success cloud her judgement. They still had to find the antidote and make it out alive, after all.

Sharing a briefly sentimental gaze with Ward, she grinned as she tossed back, "It's Skye."

Ward turned to the console positioned directly below the viewing window and tapped at the keys rapidly. The door of the pod swung open and Daisy wasted no time in emerging into the lab, her eyes narrowed at Abigail, vengeful intent scrawled across her features.

"Just so you know," Daisy stated, her voice almost a snarl, "being Inhuman doesn't make you evil. Planning to murder innocent people because you don't like what's in their gene pool? That pretty much makes you evil."

"Agent Johnson, you've got this all wrong," Abigail stuttered, shaking her head as Daisy took a step towards her.

"I ought to kill you for what you've done to my father. What you were planning on doing to my friends," Daisy hissed, her nose now only millimetres from the tip of Abigail's. Ward held the woman still, ensuring she couldn't so much as flinch.

"Go ahead... Prove what I've been saying all along," Abigail choked out, her breathing still measured like a true specialist, despite her inner panic.

"You're not even worth it," Daisy spat, turning her back on the woman and walking towards the main computer in the centre of the lab.

"We got about five minutes tops before someone else comes in here and we're made," Ward stated, eyes flicking to the still closed door, "you think you can hack it?"

"Yeah, I got this," Daisy nodded, leaning over the console, her fingers dancing swiftly over the keys. Biting her lower lip in concentration, one by one she by-passed the security defenses, until one final, blinking screen remained, drawing a weary sigh from her.

"I'm gonna need longer than five minutes," she declared.

Pressing his arm into Abigail's throat so that she gasped for air, Ward tugged her towards the console. "You know you could just save us time and tell us the password."

"I could but where would be the fun in that?" she replied archly, "could you please just shoot me? Knock me out or something? Watching you two make eyes at each other is making me nauseous."

Ward shrugged, jostling her back against him as he spoke, "As much as I'd enjoy that, no. I promised them you'd be awake and singing like a canary when they got here."

The S.W.O.R.D. director froze suddenly, her eyes widening in both fear and perhaps also due to the restrictions on her wind pipe. "Who? When who gets here?"

Daisy met Ward's gaze with a questioning frown; this had been one part of the plan she had not been privy to.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," Ward replied, as if growing bored of the conversation already, although his tone clearly hinted that he viewed his revelation as a stroke of strategic genius on his own part. Glancing at his watch, the metal face of which was digging painfully into Abigail's neck, he noted the time.

"And they should be here any second now."

Bowing his head in Daisy's direction, he flashed her an assuring smile, earning himself a slightly disbelieving glance in reply.

"I thought you were different, Ward," Abigail growled, although it was Daisy she glowered at as she spoke. "I thought you understood what we were trying to do here."

"Oh I understand just fine," Ward countered, shaking his head. "You're trying to orchestrate a mass murder."

"That's not what we're doing. I thought you believed in our cause!" Abigail protested, her voice rising an octave.

"Then I guess you fell for it..." Ward replied, his tone nonchalant as he added, "hook, line and sinker."

Abigail let loose a growl that was almost feral and, before Ward could tighten his hold on her significantly, she threw back her head, slamming the back of her skull into his jaw. Out of reflex, Ward released the woman, who wasted no time in making a grab for the ICER that Ward still wielded in his right hand.

Immediately prising it from her grip, Ward also lost his hold on the weapon and it skittered across the floor past Daisy's feet. Glancing up sharply, the hacker eyed Ward and watched the unfolding fight with concern.

"You need help there, Ward?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"No!" he huffed back, blocking a series of poorly timed punches and kicks that let him know Abigail had been out of the field for a considerable length of time. In a flurry of movement that made Daisy blink in surprise, Ward ran at the wall beside him and reached up for the pipe that hung low from the ceiling. Swinging back once to gain momentum, he lunged at the blonde, knocking her backwards against a desk chair, which then sent her careening into the console beside Daisy. One final assault and an enraged cry of protest from his opponent later, and Ward drew himself back up to his full height, regarding the unconscious S.W.O.R.D. director with a curled lip.

Ward winced and called out to Daisy, "Coulson's going to be pissed."

"I got it!" Daisy cheered triumphantly, beaming as from somewhere in the lab, there came a quiet click and then a previously locked refrigerator door swung open.

"Hurry," Ward called, poking his head around the lab door into the hallway and smartly pulling it back in as a bullet whizzed past his ear.

Daisy ran to the small, metal fridge and reached carefully inside, her hand closing around a vial filled with a liquid that was coloured almost a neon orange.

"Skye, we got company in about twenty seconds," Ward warned, retrieving the lost ICER and gesturing to the woman to hurry to his side.

"What's the plan, 007?" Daisy demanded, pocketing the vial with almost trepidation before she jogged to Ward's side.

"So far?" Ward checked, pausing before he launched a vicious kick at the lab door, sending it swinging backwards into two S.W.O.R.D. agents who were rushing towards it, weapons hot. As the two men tumbled to the ground, struggling to keep hold of their guns, Ward turned back to Daisy.

"I'm thinking 'run'."


	7. Chapter 7

Their feet pounded the floor of the hallway in perfect unison, and an almost exhilarated smile lit up Daisy's face as she reached for Ward's hand to pull him along. She was surprised to find that she was leading him by a hair, although he had the added disadvantage of wielding an ICER to stop the oncoming S.W.O.R.D. agents whilst Daisy needed only to throw out her hand.

Body after body hit the floor, all unconscious rather than dead, since the latter couldn't be reconciled with Daisy's conscience. It seemed, however, that their opposition held no such reservations, and bullet after bullet whistled past the pair, who were forced to duck continually into doorways to avoid being shot.

"You were kidding about the Coulson thing, right?" Daisy demanded, pressing her back against the closed doorway they had just flung themselves into in order to avoid another hale of bullets.

Ward only shot her a look, which suggested that it was neither the time nor place to discuss the matter.

They made a move to run from the doorway they sheltered in but as they stepped out Ward spied a rogue agent, gun drawn in their direction. Reacting on instinct, he shoved Daisy back against the door, arching over her as to cover her body with his own as bullets sailed towards them. Taking aim, he fired a series of ICER bursts at the S.W.O.R.D. agent, and the man fell to the ground, quickly joined by a colleague who had rushed to his aid. Feeling her chest rising and falling rapidly against his, Daisy lifted her eyes to Ward's, a myriad of emotions coursing through her, some she had thought long ago extinguished.

"When we get out of here," she began uncertainly, pausing to send a wave of energy toward three agents who had just rounded the corner, "maybe you could stick around?"

"Maybe," Ward agreed, and the tiny yet significant smile that passed between them made his heart flutter.

Ward instantly flattened himself against her as another shower of bullets assaulted them.

"If we get out of here," Daisy corrected herself, her smile chagrined.

"We're getting out of here," said Ward, a ring of confidence to his tone. He gestured with his head to another trio of approaching agents, his smile amused as he queried, "Do you think you could...?"

Daisy grinned and, before making any other movement, she grabbed the back of Ward's neck and dragged him down to her, pressing her lips against his in a brief yet thoroughly fevered kiss. Ward, too astounded to return the gesture, simply seemed to melt into her forceful embrace. All too soon, Daisy drew away from him, a smile affecting her kiss plumped lips.

"I said I might die," she murmured, a somewhat warped echo from another day, one that now seemed like such an impossibly long time ago. Uncertainly, Ward leaned forwards and pressed a gentle, almost shy kiss to her bottom lip.

"Not on my watch, Agent Johnson," he promised.

Wordlessly, Ward stepped back into the doorway, clearing a path for Daisy, who stepped out into the gunfire with a purposeful look spread across her features. The syringe that Ward had injected her with had been nothing more than the same mild sedative he had used on Cal. The vial of serum he had discussed with Brand had been a complete fabrication, dreamed up by he and Daisy as the two former enemies plotted their way in to the organisation with double crosses and lies. The truth was, Ward had always been with Skye, from the moment Abigail Brand had tried to pull him into the whole fiasco back in England. His end game remained the same; protect Skye at all costs, even if she would never be his.

Daisy raised her hand and time seemed to stand still. Ward watched in unchecked amazement as the bullets flying towards the woman stopped dead in the air, seemingly frozen in time. They hung, spinning and twisting still, before clattering to the floor completely harmlessly, at least two feet away from their mark.

The three S.W.O.R.D. agents who crouched at the end of the corridor exchanged glances, their expressions fearful as they gazed at the petite but evidently deadly young woman facing them down.

"Now, boys, Mom said no rough housing," Daisy tutted, all of her usual snark present as she waved the very same hand and a loud series of clicks resounded in the small space. Every one of the agents let out a yelp of surprise as his weapon dropped to the ground from between his fingers, completely disassembled.

"I'll never get tired of that," Daisy sighed, obviously pleased.

"Holy shit..." one of the men stammered, suddenly seeming to think better of his position. He clambered unsteadily to his feet, practically falling over his own body as he turned tail and ran out of sight.

"Shall we?" Daisy turned to Ward, waiting with a wry smile in place as he dropped an approaching guard to the ground in less then two moves. The pair made their way down the seemingly endless hall, until they came to a conveniently located fire exit. Kicking down the door and then gesturing for her to go ahead of him.

"You know I could have just..." Daisy gestured to her hand, indicating the door behind them, and letting him know that she could have had it off its hinges in less than a few seconds.

"And spoil all of my fun?" Ward inquired, his hand landing on her shoulder as he lowered his mouth to her ear, "although I have to admit, watching you do that is... kind of hot."

Daisy laughed, rolling her eyes at his comment even as she felt a blush flash across her cheeks. Turning on her heel, she waved her hand in one fluid movement and the door slammed shut again. Daisy clenched her fingers and there was a loud, metallic screech from the direction of the fire exit, before the sound of fists pounding on it could be heard from the other side.

"The lock should hold for a little while at least," Daisy stated, shrugging as she turned to Ward, a worried expression spreading across her features. "How's my dad?"

Ward slipped his arm through hers and ushered her towards a copse of bushes ringing the building, listening to the sounds of an alarm beginning to blare from inside.

"Kebo sent me a message whilst you were... Indisposed..." Ward replied, his voice barely a whisper, "he's not great. Woke once a few hours after we left, tried to break out of his restraints, and screamed himself hoarse for a half hour straight. Kebo administered another sedative but..."

"We need to get back there," Daisy fretted, her eyes widening as she peered up into Ward's face.

"First off, we need to concentrate on not getting shot," Ward murmured, ducking low in the bushes as he watched a small team of men, all dressed in black tac gear, filter out of the main door of the building.

"How the hell do we get out of here?" Daisy whispered, gesturing to the main gate, where a guard was loading a rifle as he conversed with someone via radio. "It's not like we can just drive out the way we came in."

"Didn't plan on it," Ward replied, suddenly pointing upwards and shaking Daisy's arm lightly, "looks like our ride is here."

The couple stood up from their hiding place, watching as the jet landed in a perfect vertical descent in the inner quadrangle of the building. Almost immediately, figures dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical gear swarmed from the plane and Daisy resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air.

Hunter and Bobbi headed the group, racing toward the sound of gunfire with their weapons drawn in readiness. May shouted orders across the ground, pausing to take down one guard who stood in her path. They disappeared into the building, amid the sound of alarms ringing furiously and the yells of fleeing S.W.O.R.D. personnel as they ran for the doors and lower ground floor windows.

"Let's go!" Ward directed, once again turning his body toward the source of the fray in case stray bullets were to head in their direction. With their hands clasped together, they ran toward the familiar figure who stood in the open hangar of the plane. Coulson watched them with obvious interest, and Daisy found herself fearful of the response that not only she but also the man beside her would receive.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Coulson asked, dispensing with any pleasantries as the pair boarded the plane.

Daisy nodded, taking a deep breath as she said hurriedly, "D.C., I... I'm sorry. But I had to try to help him. He's my father."

Coulson stared at her and the coldness in his eyes scared her. His jaw set and he slammed a button on the side of the wall, which set a whirring sound in motion that signified that the door was closing.

"Ward filled me in about the antidote," Coulson stated, his gaze ticking to Ward for just a moment, "did you get it?"

"I got it," Daisy replied meekly, fishing around in the pocket of her jeans and finally holding aloft the vial that perhaps promised to hold the key to her father's recovery.

"Good," Coulson sniffed, suddenly grabbing at the tie he wore around his neck and loosening it with the fingers of one hand. With his free hand, he pointed accusingly at Daisy, his eyes narrowed and his fury radiating from his body in waves, "Because you're in a world of trouble, young lady."

"Figured as much," she said quietly, although thoughts of her father were quickly outstripping her concern for anyone or anything else. Gazing up in what she hoped was a pitiful and pleading manner, she murmured, "We could use a ride?"

Watching the pair with an expression of deep concern etched across his face, Coulson noted that their hands were still joined and, unlike the last time that Grant Ward had been in Daisy's presence, a strange resolution seemed to have taken place between them.

"And when did you two become 'we'?" he asked, watching as Daisy looked at Ward as if suddenly realising that their hands were entwined. Ward looked uneasy, and he steadied himself for her to come to her senses. Instead, she clutched onto him tighter.

"Ward helped me. He saved my ass a couple of times back there," Daisy stated, her chin tilted back defiantly, as if she was waiting to have to fight and stand her ground to allow him to remain with her.

"We've been here before, Daisy. We know how this ends. Ward... can't be trusted," Coulson warned firmly, ignoring the fact that the man in question was standing only feet away.

Daisy shook her head, her eyes blazing as she retorted, "You're wrong, Coulson. We never really gave him a chance."

"You want me to give the guy who betrayed us all to Hydra a second chance?" Coulson repeated incredulously, his nose wrinkled as he stared at Daisy, almost aghast at the suggestion.

"Why is it that everyone else gets one, but not him, huh?" Daisy demanded, her voice raised until she was almost shouting in the director's face, "Bobbi, Hunter, May... Me? You can forgive us all our transgressions but Grant Ward is just a step too far? Is that it?"

"Skye..." Ward said softly, his free hand touching her knee in an attempt to attract her attention.

"Oh so he can call you Skye?" Coulson demanded, eyes shooting to Ward, who only leaned back against the wall of the plane, choosing to remain silent.

"My God, you are petty," Daisy snapped, chuckling and shaking her head in disbelief, "I am asking you to trust me on this... On him!"

"Trust you?" Coulson shouted back, an amused yet enraged smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "you defied my orders, stole my jet and abandoned it in a field, hospitalised one of my agents, and took off with a known murderer. How the hell do you expect me to trust you?"

"You were going to kill my father!" Daisy screamed, her eyes flashing as she jumped to her feet, panting heavily and glaring at Coulson with such unchecked fury that he almost took a cautious step backward.

Lowering his chin to his chest, Coulson stared down at the ground, purposefully avoiding the woman's furious gaze as he realised the awful truth in her words. Though he could attempt to defend his actions, which were morally dubious to say the least, he knew deep down that perhaps some of his motives were rooted in jealousy. Coulson could be many things to Daisy; mentor, confidante, and friend, but he could never be her father. He would never share her history or her blood in the way that Cal did. His smile was evident on the young woman's face, and he was there in the depths of her brown eyes. And, even through the terrible things he had done, he still remained her father - a man whose motives had been rooted in tragedy and loss; in a parent grieving for their cherished daughter. Coulson had no such nobility or humanity in his reasoning.

"I'm sorry," he offered weakly. "What I did was... But I swear I had no idea about the poison. If I had, you have to believe me, I'd have done everything in my power to help him."

Daisy took a step forward, aligning herself with Coulson's body so that barely centimetres separated them. Peering up into his face with unchecked sorrow, she said quietly, "Why should I trust you when you can't do the same for me?"

There was a moment of heavy silence and Ward averted his gaze from the two warring agents, almost confident that both had forgotten his presence. Finally, Coulson reached out a hand and placed it on Daisy's shoulder before sliding it up to cup her cheek in an affectionate, paternal gesture.

"I am sorry," Coulson said, his eyes momentarily closing under the weight of his guilt, "I was callous and unfeeling, and I almost cost you everything. Please believe that I never once suspected that there was anything other than shoddy TAHITI programming at work here. I didn't know about S.W.O.R.D. or Brand, but now I hope you'll give me a chance to put this right."

Daisy thought over his proposition and seemingly heartfelt apology, and slowly nodded in agreement. On impulse, she pulled herself up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around Coulson's neck in a tight hug, drawing back once he had returned the embrace.

"You know, D.C., having my dad in my life doesn't make you any less special to me," she informed him, smiling at the almost shy expression her boss returned to her. "There's room for both of you. I spent years with nobody to look out for me, nobody on this entire planet who loved me, and now I've got all these people to care about me, and... you just, you can't have too many people to love or love you back."

"I'll go and speak to the pilot, we'll be at the cabin in less than thirty minutes. I'll have Jemma put together some supplies and she'll come and check in on him every day. Whatever you need... you just ask me. Okay?"

"Okay," Daisy agreed, her eyes trailing off toward Ward as she inclined her head and added in a gentle yet pointed manner, "So... does that include cutting Ward some slack?"

Inhaling slowly, Coulson turned his gaze to the former specialist and against his better judgement, nodded.

"For now. But you hurt this girl again, Ward, and I will end you. Am I making myself clear?"

Ward bowed his head, hoping his former boss could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Where to, sir?" the pilot of the Quinjet called out over his shoulder, clearly deciding that it was perhaps only now safe to interject. Coulson glanced at Daisy, offering her a small smile.

"Daisy?" he queried, gesturing to the front of the jet, where the pilot waited patiently to input the co-ordinates of her safe house which, despite a week of his best efforts, Coulson had failed to locate.

Shooting the director a final grin, Daisy set out to the co-pilot's seat, pausing only momentarily to glance at Ward, who was watching her with an unreadable expression playing across his features.

"Sorry, sir, but..." she began, eyes gleaming as she continued to stare at the former specialist, "it's Skye."

Torn between smiling at the use of her old name, and groaning at the administrative issues she was once again about to cause him, Coulson settled for shrugging helplessly at Ward.

"I only just had the names changed on her tac. gear."


	8. Chapter 8

The jet had barely touched down in the clearing nearby Skye's cabin before she was hitting the button to lower the ramp with her palm and muttering nervously under her breath. Before the door was even fully lowered and cleared, Skye took off running into the waist height grass, her exhaustion and injuries completely forgotten as she pushed on towards her safe house.

Ward had attempted to phone ahead but Kebo had not answered his cell, which had set Skye's anxiety working overtime.

She pushed through the front door without bothering to announce herself, only faintly amused to find Kebo passed out on the couch whilst a telenovela played on the TV screen in the background. Ward entered the doorway only seconds behind her, his gaze landing immediately on his sleeping lackey, who was wearing such a blissfully content expression in slumber that Ward momentarily considered photographing it to blackmail him with at a later date.

"Guess we know why Kebo didn't answer the phone," Ward quipped, shaking his head as he moved to turn of the TV.

Coulson approached the front stoop somewhat gingerly, peering around the front door jamb for signs of Skye before he dared to enter.

"Get in here, D.C., you're forgiven already," Skye barked, motioning with her hand for the director to join them inside. With a small smile, Coulson stepped into the doorway, his eyes immediately roving the open plan set up like a true field agent.

"Right, so, it said on the file at the lab that Dad ingested the poison," Skye stated, her voice trembling as she spoke, "something about a pizza? So do I inject the antidote?"

She looked to Ward for confirmation, gnawing her bottom lip and hugging herself with her arms crossed over her body as she did so. Her fear for her father was palpable, and Ward was immediately motivated to reach across the space that separated them in order to gently brush his thumb across the apple of Skye's cheek. However, he allowed the contact to last only seconds, more than aware that their reconciliation, whilst possible, was still in its most fragile stages.

Despite that fact, Skye grabbed at his hand as he pulled it away from her cheek, and Ward knew just how terrified she had to be if he were her source of comfort.

"Here..." he said softly, passing her a fresh syringe, which she tore from the wrapper with trembling hands. She pulled the cap off the needle and plunged it into the rubber cap on the vial, tilting it up and withdrawing all of the brightly coloured contents in one go. Ward took the empty ampule from her whilst Skye tapped the sides of the syringe for bubbles, and carefully pushed the plunger up to get rid of any air. Re-sheathing the needle, she walked uncertainly towards her father's bedroom, Coulson and Ward following behind.

She glanced between the needle in her hand and the prone body of Cal, and her nerves began to get the better of her as she remembered the success rate the trials had had with the antidote.

"What if it doesn't work and I end up killing him?" she asked, brushing at her cheek as a tear tripped her eyelashes.

"I'll do it," Ward reached out to take the syringe, not wanting Skye to have her own father's death on her conscience.

Coulson listened to the exchange for a moment, before stepping forward and holding out his hand.

"No. I'll do it. You've got enough red in your ledger, Ward, and... besides... whatever the hell is going on between you two needs all the help it can get. Give it to me."

Shooting Coulson a hesitant but grateful look, Skye stepped around the bed and crouched down at her father's side. Her fingers splayed across his forehead and she gently began to stroke his skin, whispering unintelligibly into his ear as Coulson approached.

"Are you sure about this, Skye?" Coulson queried, evidently concerned as his gaze befell Cal, who looked thin and impossibly pale, curled up in the single bed with a tangle of sheets at his feet.

Skye nodded, her bottom lip trembling as she struggled to hold back further tears, unable to shake the horrible sense that this could perhaps be her final goodbye to the father she had already lost so many times before.

"Do it," she whispered, her free hand brushing away her tears as though she were irritated by them, "without it, he dies anyway. At least now he has a fighting chance."

With a resolute sigh, Coulson stepped forward and carefully manoeuvred Cal's left arm off the bed. His eyes trained on the man's face for any signs of distress or discomfort, Coulson inserted the needle into the top of his arm and depressed the plunger.

It took only seconds for the syringe to be emptied, and Coulson stepped back from the bed as soon as his task was complete.

Cal lay perfectly still, all eyes on the room upon him. Ward had half expected the man's body to start seizing, and for a second that thought returned him to a moment he had hoped to forget, where it had been Skye who had lain dying, frail and helpless, seemingly beyond help.

"What now?" Coulson asked, his voice breaking through the sound of Cal's soft, measured breathing.

Staring at the apparently lifeless man, Skye leaned her chin on her arm and prepared to keep her vigil. "Now, I guess we wait."

x-x-x

Five hours later, and Skye remained at her father's side, removing herself only long enough to use the bathroom. Simmons had visited earlier in the evening, bringing with her a crate of medical supplies and attaching Cal to a heart monitor so that his vital signs could be measured more easily. A bag of IV fluids hung on a pole beside his bed, and Skye watched the image of each crest and wave of his heartbeat with increased urgency.

So far he was 'stable' yet with each passing second that he remained in this state, Skye felt hope fading away. Having sent Kebo on a mission to the grocery store before he went home, Ward had busied himself in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup as it bubbled merrily on the stove in front of him. Coulson worked in silence beside him, adding another few sandwiches to a plate stacked high with grilled cheese - something he knew Skye had always been partial to.

Ladling a helping of soup into a bowl, Ward placed it onto a tray and picked up a side plate, to which he added two of Coulson's sandwiches before depositing it on the tray, along with a can of ice cold soda.

Without saying a word, Coulson picked out a packet from one of the brown paper bags and dropped a bag of Twizzlers beside the soup bowl.

"She likes those," he stated, catching Ward's puzzled expression, "I asked your... associate... to get them."

Arranging a napkin and a spoon onto the tray, Ward carried it silently out of the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances that Coulson seemed to frequently send in his direction.

"Skye?" he called out, tapping the door with the toe of his boot and walking in as it creaked open. Seeing him present her with a tray of dinner, Skye wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Thanks, but... I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat something, Skye. You need to take care of yourself, too. You know that's what he'd want," Ward sighed as he looked down at Cal, and he wondered - if the unthinkable happened - how Skye would ever get over losing the man she desperately wanted a chance to love.

Ward placed the tray down onto the rickety dresser, and Skye frowned as she heard him opening a bag. A small smile appeared on her face as he held aloft a handful of candy, and she took them from him with a nod.

"Thanks."

"Just so we're clear," Ward began firmly as Skye bit into a string of bright red liquorice, "that doesn't count as dinner. You have to at least try the soup, and Coulson will be kind of offended if you pass up his grilled cheese."

"Noted," Skye replied, swallowing hard and flashing Ward the tiniest of smiles before she turned her gaze back to her father's prone form. Worry creased her brow and turned the corners of her mouth downwards into a frown that made her look even more exhausted.

Without another word, Ward turned on his heel and prepared to leave her in peace, uncertain of just what she wanted in that moment. Skye answered for him, her head whipping up in his direction like she had been burned.

"Stay a while," she said, and although it was more a demand than a question, Grant nodded and quietly closed the door behind him before perching on the end of Cal's bed opposite Skye. His eyes drifted to her still bandaged hand, which was wrapped around Cal's fingers, perhaps like an anchor to this world should his body think of giving up.

"Did the file say anything about how long it should take?" Ward asked, beginning to broach the subject.

Skye shook her head, affording him another brief glance, "I didn't really have a lot of time for reading... I didn't see much."

Ward nodded again, rubbing his eyes tiredly with the back of one hand.

"You should go, get some sleep, I'm being selfish," Skye stated, her tone suddenly decisive as she watched Ward stifle a yawn. However, he shook his head, in the next instant looking more aware, as though he had willed his tired body into obedience only to support her.

"I'm fine. I've gotten by on less sleep," he replied, "I'll sleep when he's better and you sleep."

Skye said nothing, barely moved an inch in fact, but her gratitude was written plainly across her face, and Ward smiled at her just to let her know that he could see it.

"Skye, I know now isn't really the time but..." Ward began, frowning as he realised he was beginning to trip over his words. He took a deep, steadying breath, and forced himself to continue, " 'Sorry' will never be enough to make up for what I did to our team. I just want you all to know that I will regret it until my dying day. I followed a madman blindly into Hell and I betrayed the only people who had ever shown me an ounce of care and compassion. That's pretty unforgivable."

Skye remained quiet, eyes downcast to the bed sheets, as Ward continued, his soft voice ringing out with a certainty he did not feel.

"I won't pretend that I'm a good man, but one day I hope to be," Ward said, suddenly closing his mouth into a tight line and falling silent. Skye eventually glanced up, shocked to find the lack of hope in his eyes, only frustration mingled with remorse.

"Like I said, Ward," Skye answered, shrugging her shoulders, "we've all done some pretty unforgivable things. I can't speak for anyone else, and I'm not saying I trust you implicitly right now or anything, but... I want to at least give you that chance you want; to be a better person. I think that's worth trying to set aside whatever has happened before. You had my back yesterday when nobody else did and, well, frankly, my dad and I would be dead right now if it wasn't for you."

Ward smiled, reaching across the bed to capture Skye's hand in his own, his thumb brushing her skin with delicate strokes.

"I guess that's got to count for something," he replied, such a look of pain replacing his smile that Skye felt her heart skip a beat in sympathy. A voice from the doorway hauled them both abruptly from their reverie.

"It counts for more than something," Coulson said, glancing somewhat apologetically at Skye, who realised that the director had been present for the majority of Ward's declarations. In his hand, he clutched a mug of tea, which he gestured to with a slight nod of his head in explanation.

Ward only stared at the other man, his discomfort evident in the defensive stiffening of his shoulders and the way his jaw tensed in order to prevent his bottom lip trembling. He had always been able to lock down his emotions fairly easily, but sorrow was the hardest, and it had been a rough few days.

"You're not forgiven," Coulson reiterated, sighing as he extended his right hand to Ward, who looked at the appendage as though it may bite him. "But maybe I can bring myself to hate you just a little less until you prove your worth."

Slowly, haltingly, with more fear present than Skye had ever witnessed in his face before, Ward accepted Coulson's hand, and shook it.

"I'll leave you two alone," Coulson said, stepping back from the gesture and pausing only to stroke a tendril of hair from Skye's forehead. "I'll be in the lounge if you need anything... Either of you."

Stunned into total silence, Ward watched the man go, his heart thundering in his chest as though he had just gone ten rounds with Hydra's best. Skye let out a quiet chuckle, drawing Ward's bemused gaze. She only offered him a shrug by way of explanation, before she shuffled across the bed until she was sitting at his side. Carefully, so as not to jostle her sleeping father, she curled herself into Ward's chest, laying her head on his shoulder and seizing his arm, which she circled around her own waist until she was locked securely in the man's embrace. A sigh escaped her, although there was contentment mixed with her sadness, now.

Ward pressed his cheek against the crown of Skye's head, enjoying the way she melted into his body, signifying that their fledgling trust and uneasy truce had spiraled into something much more promising. It was as close to perfection as he could ever have hoped for, and certainly much more than he deserved. So, Ward allowed his eyelids to flutter closed, and he stroked Skye's hip with his fingertips until her breathing began to even out, signifying she had drifted into an uneasy slumber within his protection.

Several hours later, as Skye continued to sleep, Cal opened his eyes and looked upon the familiar face of his daughter.


	9. Epilogue

December 16th, 2015

Wisconsin

For the better part of a week, Skye had remained at Cal's side, even going so far as to move into the spare room of his apartment when he had refused to remain at the cabin any longer. He found the woods an altogether bleak place and he longed for the thrum of activity late at night that came with living in the heart of a city. Skye, so overjoyed by his recovery, could not deny him anything, and enlisted the help of both Ward and Kebo in helping to relocate the man back to his home.

Coulson had agreed to a two week leave period so that she could oversee her father's recovery, and Jemma had been as good as her word in making house calls to ensure the doctor was making improvements. Although he still suffered from tremors, the odd migraine, and nightmares that woke him screaming in pools of sweat, Cal's physical health was much improved. They had discovered soon after he had woken at the safe house that all traces of the false life TAHITI had created for him had been erased, restoring his true memories of Jiaying, his daughter and the traumatic past that had led him to such a point. Whilst Skye had feared for his mental health after all that he had endured, Cal seemed to be making remarkable improvements, instead holding onto his joy at once again having been reunited with his child, and using it to pull himself forward.

He delighted in his daughter's company, and slowly but surely the pair were exploring the chances lost to them over the years. Cal was never so happy as when he was allowed to dote on his adored child and Skye, though overwhelmed by the concept, found that she was just as thrilled by his attention as he was to give it. Skye loved him, and it was evident in every word and gesture that Cal was absolutely besotted with his daughter.

Ward had been concerned that once Skye's concern for her father had lessened, that his presence would not be required by the former hacker. He had been both surprised and yet pleased to find that that wasn't the case.

Although he had been careful to give father and daughter some much needed space, Ward had found himself a regular visitor to Cal's apartment, whether to bring by grapes and magazines to the patient, or simply to ensure that Skye was not running herself ragged. He often brought Kebo along with him, and had been infinitely amused to discover that his friend and Dr. Johnson were engaged in an ongoing chess tournament that neither were prepared to back down from graciously. Unbeknownst to the pair, he and Skye were placing bets as to who the winner would be; Ward's money was firmly on Cal.

"You okay in there, Dad?" Skye yelled out towards the enclosed kitchen as she set out cutlery and napkins for five at the fold out table in preparation for their guests.

"Fine, sweetheart. I may be an invalid but I can handle a little pasta," Cal called back, chuckling as he stirred the enormous pot, which contained enough spaghetti to feed a third world nation, he was sure.

The dinner had been Skye's idea, surprisingly enough; her way of expressing her gratitude to those who had come to her aid most in the recent weeks, and as a result she had fretted about every aspect being as near perfect as she could make it for days on end. More food, beer and wine than could ever truly be necessary had been purchased, along with sweet pastries, after dinner mints, hors d'euvres and, for reasons unknown to Cal, a jar of caviar, that he was almost certain his daughter hadn't the faintest idea how to serve.

Releasing the breath she hadn't realised she was holding, Skye cast a critical eye over the table settings, bending to turn one of the flowers in the vase she had positioned in the centre of the table. Everything needed to be right; it was the first real family dinner she would ever be a part of, and she wanted every moment of it to be perfect and committed firmly to memory. Though forced to endure the process with Jiaying during her brief stay at the Afterlife, when Cal had been wheeled out more as a bargaining chip than as her parent, Skye was desperate to make new memories.

A knock on the door suddenly secured her attention, and she yelled toward the kitchen as she made her way to greet their first guest.

"I've got it, Dad."

She beamed at the sound of one particular word as it left her lips, and it was a smile that was very firmly still in place when she threw open the door.

"Hi!" she beamed, her eyes scanning the tall and scandalously handsome figure that Grant Ward cut on her doorstep.

"Hey," he held her gaze, finding all too soon that he was mirroring her grin. As he stepped into the apartment, wine bottle in hand, Skye leaned up somewhat demurely and pressed a kiss against his lips.

Securing his arm around her waist, Ward drew her closer, chasing a second and then a third kiss as her arms wound around his neck.

"How's it going at Casa Johnson?" Ward inquired, his smile widening as they wandered into the lounge and his eyes befell Skye's makeshift dining arrangements.

"Actually, really good," Skye replied, her happiness evident in the warm glow present on her cheeks. "I'll be kind of bummed to go back to work in a couple of days."

Ward opened his mouth to respond but was silenced by another sharp series of raps on the door. Holding up a finger momentarily, Skye disappeared from the room to welcome both Coulson and Kebo who, in an amusing twist of fate, had arrived simultaneously and been forced to endure the elevator ride and walk to Cal's apartment together. Whilst Coulson was sticking to his word and trying to let bygones be bygones where Ward was concerned, Kebo was another matter, and it was clear that the director viewed the ex-Hydra goon with a sense of unchecked disdain.

Glancing around as a shuffling noise caught his attention, Ward held open the kitchen door to allow a plate laden Cal to stumble through. The man's smile was immediately bright and cordial as his eyes fell on Ward, who began to unload the plates of steaming seafood spaghetti from his hands.

"Grant! A pleasure to see you, as always," Cal stated, bowing his head slightly at Ward. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure... thanks," Ward nodded, following Cal into the kitchen and watching closely as the older man hobbled around with the one crutch he was unfortunately still loathed to use. But weeks in a catatonic, practically comatose state had done little for his muscle tone, and for a while at least, under the advisement of his S.H.I.E.L.D. physiotherapist, Cal had to make use of the cursed aide.

"Let's see, we've got beer, wine... bourbon? More of a scotch drinker myself," Cal mused, as he first glanced across the counter at the impromptu bar, and then inside the refrigerator. "Although, I do have a rather remarkable Chateauneuf du Pape. I've been waiting for just the occasion to open it, and this seems like as good a time as any!"

"A beer would be great... thanks," Ward stated, placing the bottle he'd brought in among the line-up of alcoholic beverages Skye had clearly seen it necessary to purchase for their rather strange dinner party. Given that the evening was to be spent with those three men in particular, Ward couldn't blame her.

"So, how's the uh... Well, you know... the therapy going?" Cal asked, leaning back against the counter as he held up his glass of wine and eyed Ward with the sort of intensity that only a worried parent could muster. "Do you find it odd, talking about yourself? I do."

"It's not exactly my favourite topic," Ward admonished, knowing that Cal was currently going through the same process, with exactly the same therapist.

"No," Cal shrugged resolutely, "but I'm doing it for her. For my Daisy... Skye."

His smile was sad as he commented, "Can't say I blame her for not wanting to use the name her mother and I gave her. It must hold... bad connotations now. After... after everything."

Ward took a sip of his beer, watching Cal over the rim of the bottle as he smiled into his wine glass. It seemed as though, finally after years of heartbreak and turmoil, the man had made peace with his demons, and begun to look to those things that were present in his life as opposed to those that had been taken from him. Ward supposed he could learn a thing or two about, provided Skye wanted him to stick around long enough.

"I believe you and Skye have your first date next week," Cal suddenly continued, his expression almost bordering on reproachful as he watched Ward, "don't have to have 'the talk' with you, do I?"

Ward spluttered, choking on the mouthful of beer he had unwisely chosen to swallow at that moment. He raised a hand to his mouth to wipe the liquid from his chin, eyes widening as he stared at Cal, wondering if he was joking or in fact serious. When it appeared to be the latter, Ward almost found himself blushing.

"No. No, sir," he stated, shaking his head rather firmly.

Cal chuckled, breathing a loud sigh of relief as he replied, "Well, thank heaven for that! I guess that's one of the parts of fatherhood that passed me by, eh?"

Choosing his words carefully, but aiming to tell nothing but the truth, Ward said earnestly, "I'm not the kind of guy you should want your daughter to date. I've done things I'm not proud of, I hurt her, and... I don't know if Skye can ever forgive me, but I know I'll never forgive myself for what I did to her. I don't know why I'm here, and I don't know how she can even think about giving me a second chance, but... I..."

A brief smile flickered on Cal's lips, and he finished Ward's sentence with a knowing sigh. "You love her."

Cal reached out and placed his hand on the former specialist's shoulder.

"Skye sees the good in people, Grant. It's why you're here tonight, and it's why she's allowing me to be the father I always wanted to be. It should be too late, for her and I... but, she has the biggest heart I've ever known, this... this amazing capacity to love. Believe it or not, she gets that from her mother. In the end, that's what made Jiaying so dangerous. She had her heart broken," Cal said softly, his eyes misting over as he thought about his late wife.

Ward regarded the other man, watching a combination of sadness, nostalgia and bittersweet joy flicker curiously across his features. It was all that was needed to encourage Ward to reassure him that, as long as there was breath in his body, Skye would never meet the same fate as her mother; he would protect her body and soul with everything he had for as long as she would allow, and perhaps even beyond that.

"I swear, I'll take care of her... If she'll have me," Ward said, finding his voice hoarse, much to his embarrassment. Cal shot him a look coupled with a knowing smile and gently released his shoulder.

"From what I know of my daughter, Grant, she'll allow no such thing," Cal replied, chuckling as his eyes swept Ward's earnest expression. "But perhaps, with time, you can learn to take care of each other."

The very idea made Ward happier than he thought he ever had been in his entire life, and just the prospect of Skye perhaps one day loving him back brought a light to his eyes that none who ever knew him had seen before.

"You know, this is a fresh start for both of us. We've got to grasp it in both hands, Grant. No more lies, no more pain... no more TAHITI!" Cal executed a strange little fist pump that reminded Ward so much of Skye that he immediately began to laugh.

"Which reminds me," Cal continued, frowning, "I really must ask Coulson how it is that I wound up working as a Veterinarian. Spaying and neutering wasn't something I learned as an intern at Johns Hopkins!"

Ward arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of his beer, assuming that Coulson had more than a few secrets to unearth in relation to the now abandoned TAHITI project.

"Now... let's eat before it gets cold. There's Key Lime pie for dessert!" Cal enthused, doling out three more plates of food, which he and Ward carried between them to the dining table. From her place at the table - a vacant seat each side of her for her father and Ward - Skye peered up at the two men with a bashful grin illuminating her face.

The food was deposited before hungry guests, and even Coulson managed a sincere smile, as he remarked on the delicious aromas wafting up from his plate. Kebo for his part made anticipatory 'yummy' noises - something which made the S.H.I.E.L.D. director seated beside him chortle into his glass of Merlot.

Ward settled at Skye's side, starting suddenly as he felt her hand curl around his thigh, and she grinned back at him as if every happiness in the world had now been granted to her.

Ignoring her guests for a moment, Skye drew closer and let her hand flutter to Ward's jaw, as she kissed him with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm than was truly acceptable at the dinner table.

When she drew back from their kiss, the expression of awe and unchecked adoration she found on his features brought a flutter to the pit of her stomach, and when his lips ghosted her temple, she inclined her body to lean into his side.

Clearing his throat and shooting the pair a disparaging yet amused smile, Cal shook out his napkin and glanced expectantly around the table, "Bon appetite!"

"Wait, Dad, you forgot the toast," Skye chided, her smile growing exponentially as she picked up her own wine glass and gestured for the others to do the same. As beer bottles and crystal glasses were raised, four pairs of eyes turned expectantly towards Skye, and she found herself suddenly struck dumb.

There was so much she could say, about family and friends, enemies and lovers, heroes and monsters, that she barely knew where to begin. It had been a difficult few months, downright surreal in parts and terrifying in others, and Skye was filled with the certainty that had it not been for the people surrounding her, she would never have made it through. Be that as it may, her mind was drawing a blank, perhaps too addled by the exhaustion of perfecting her dinner plans or perhaps just too busy drinking in the good company surrounding her.

Finally, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, Skye decided that perhaps, just this once, less would indeed be more. Ward's smile was encouraging and Skye swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat, which she could no doubt attribute to the tears of happiness shining in her eyes.

With a grin that was altogether infectious, and in a voice that was barely above a whisper, Skye said, "To old friends, new friends..."

Her gaze slid sideways to Ward, who was watching her like she was the most complex riddle he had yet to solve, his eyes alive with such affection and awe that Skye felt for just a moment as though her breath had been stolen from her.

Finally, she found her voice again, her eyes locked with Grant Ward's, a promise of what was to come, "And those in between."

A quiet murmur of affirmation rose up around her, and glass clinked against glass as her oddball collection of guests honoured the toast.

Ward paused for just a moment, considering Skye's words, and specifically the ones that had been meant only for him; those in between. It was more than he deserved - more than he had ever dared to hope for again - and Grant Ward would certainly drink to that.


End file.
